


Book One: The Details Of The Golden Wing

by Vecieminde



Series: The Details And Nuances Of The Ineffable Plan [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), Blood and Gore, Canon Compliant, Character Development, Character Study, Confessions, Conversations, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Genderfluid Characters, Happy Ending, Healing, Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Royalty, It is still purely Good Omens story, Love, M/M, Making Love, Mind Control, Mutilation, Other, Post-Canon, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Relationship Development, Sex, Sibling Relationship, Siblings, Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens), The Details And Nuances Of The Ineffable Plan, The Ineffable Plan (Good Omens), The character is just extracted from there and put into Good Omens universe, Trauma, Wings, You need to know nothing about my little pony, relationships are complicated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:27:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 70,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23953033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vecieminde/pseuds/Vecieminde
Summary: A.Z. FELL AND CO. is easily the most infamous bookshop in Soho and perhaps in all of London. The opening hours are strangely all over the place; the shop smells funny and the owner looks as if the last thing he wants to do is sell a book. That is the general public opinion of this place.What people don’t know is what began on the night when the demon entered the bookshop and the Devil walked the Earth.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley & Satan | Lucifer (Good Omens)
Series: The Details And Nuances Of The Ineffable Plan [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1718359
Comments: 6
Kudos: 31
Collections: The Good Omens Collection, Tip Top Stories





	1. Perhaps Whiskey Would Have Been Better

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first book of the main plot of the series. This is where the journey truly begins. 
> 
> This story was the first big one that me and my talented friend [SVDÝIX](https://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=https%3A%2F%2Finstagram.com%2Fsvdyix%3Figshid%3Dkep4g0k2fvqv%26fbclid%3DIwAR3shwrW8uxWe2hBhZXjgVzvk6m13UCZ13EjBaIdf-e7ko6aIlByvVC1XIE&h=AT09ems6xJbDYDPt6jisv7EaTA1B6XgVkbSUcfhpPsgPzHHzWUTA2zlcMRn58WDLuAuJlXYJolAVgMNE1dcO5ZXzt7XcCxHxbJ__GDiCXUgPetGe06dxvSLF4x1wD807rU5h37tsWENbBGASXQFWhg) created.
> 
> It started out as an idea of exploring Crowley’s character and demonic nature and then turned into the story of a much broader yet detailed nature. We are not going to explore only Crowley but Aziraphale as well and perhaps...even the Devil.
> 
> It is a finished story and I plan on doing updates twice a week.
> 
> This series has a special place in my heart. I hope you enjoy and feel free to leave feedback. It is always a pleasure to read.

* * *

"Whiskey-bad or vodka-bad? "

"Vodka-bad."

"Coming right up."

The man-shaped being brings out two vodka glasses and one transparent bottle with equally transparent liquid in it. He fills one glass and pushes it towards the other much gloomier man-shaped being.

  
"Here you go."

"Thank you, angel...." the ginger says quietly and takes the glass into his hand, looking at the liquid with complete disinterest. "Oh well... To the blessed world." He drinks everything without batting an eye. Barely having any reaction whatsoever to the purest vodka that the bookshop owner is able to provide.

Aziraphale doesn’t drink. He just sits back in his armchair and looks at Crowley with full attendance, waiting for whatever is to come.

The swishy sound accompanies the ticking of the clock when the demon breathes out through his nose and fixes his glasses to make sure that everything remains hidden behind the dark lenses. He does not move, gluing his gaze onto the emptied glass in his hand.

"Fuck this day." He snaps his fingers and his glass fills itself up with another drink.

Aziraphale's eyes drop to Crowley’s glass and he can swear that it has doubled its size. Then he glances over at the bottle and its contents have lessened noticeably. He draws his eyes back to Crowley, knowing that soon enough he is going to spill the beans.

Never ask him. Always let him choose that topic. Never pester.

The world had continued to move on its regular course after the Armageddon had been avoided. With a few exceptions, humans had forgotten all about the appearance of the Kraken or the lost City of Atlantis; there had been no burning sigil of fire on M25 that had killed thousands. Everything had gone back to normal.

  
For humans.

Those of Heaven and Hell remembered all that had occurred and neither of them had been prone to forgive for the lost chance to prove their superiority to the opposition. They couldn't touch the humans but they could punish the only angel and the only demon directly involved in the aversion.

They took Aziraphale and Crowley to burn and to dissolve. However, both of them survived and walked out victoriously. The pair disowned their respective sides to create their own with just the two of them.

It was in this bookshop that they had touched each other in the manner that they had done only once before. It had rained when they first had felt each other's lips. The Moon shone through the roof window when the bookshop was filled with sighs and the rustling of the sheets. The words were spoken and then was no denial after that. 6000 years of build-up to have them say those words to each other that gave a name to their relationship.

And time passed and they lived as they did before, one in Soho and another in Mayfair, still caught up in the old lifestyle that they had chosen for themselves on Earth.

But now Crowley knew that the angel does not mind when he snuggles up in his lap whilst the other is reading and Aziraphale could stare for hours into the demon's uncovered serpentine eyes and caress his elegant hand while doing so.  
  


That until Crowley had disappeared.

For days.

Aziraphale had let him be. It was normal.

For a week.

Aziraphale had begun to feel the itch of a growing worry at the back of his head. He had sent a few messages to Crowley to inquire if he was alright. He had paid one visit to Mayfair flat. It was without the demon. Aziraphale had been able to convince himself that maybe Crowley had just wanted to spend some time alone.

After a fortnight, Aziraphale had started panicking and elaborate plans began to construct themselves in the angel's head for all the possible scenarios, one being worse than the last. He never had the time to execute them, however, because tonight Crowley had returned.

He had strode in with his signature sway of the hips and Aziraphale had let him in without a word. He knew that version of Crowley. He knew the nature of the demon's disappearance. It had happened before and Aziraphale was experienced in matters such as this one.

The preparation and the repetitiveness, however, does not make it any easier.

Especially when they both had thought that they were now not obliged to do anything that Hell or Heaven would want them to do.

  
They had been wrong and in this painful reality, another glass goes down. Crowley throws his head back on the sofa and chuckles, closing his eyes: "Stop looking at me like that, angel. Drink."

"I do not want to."

"Hmmm... okay." Crowley doesn't even try to tempt him and alone he gulps down another glass.

Crowley mumbles something under his breath, not looking at Aziraphale. Small talk is all he is willing to give.

  
"How was your day?"

Aziraphale finally blinks: "Quiet. I finished my research. Reorganised the third shelf. This time it is both year and colour coded. It was not easy."

He had done it when he had been searching for the information that could have helped him to find Crowley. Thankfully, none of it had to be used. Crowley is here without a single scratch. He is fine.

Only that he isn't.

Clearly.

He senses the demon’s frustration. This needs to come out. Needs to be spoken out loud.

"Good. Sounds very good," Crowley chuckles again and this time he refills both glasses, which are emptied in a matter of seconds. When the second glass is finished, he slams it against the table. He does not let go of the glass, glaring at it as if he is trying to destroy it with his gaze. The knuckles on his left hand turn white from the pressure that he is inflicting... the glass, however, does not seem to break in his hand.

" I...oh fuck... no," he mutters under his breath.  
  


Aziraphale puts his fingers on top of Crowley’s glass, ready to take it from him. The Principality is calm but stern.

"Enough. The bottle is empty. Let go."

The demon flinches when Aziraphale's fingers slightly touch his. He is not trying to break the glass in his hand now, but still refuses to let go: "Aziraphale..."

He swallows and turns his eyes back to Aziraphale, trying to keep up his calm act, but still, a notion of a growl slips into his voice:" ...do not touch me."

The angel's eyes do not leave Crowley’s. Not for one second. But his fingers retreat. Not out of fear, but respect to Crowley’s boundaries. He is nothing but calmness. He pushes the table away from in between them with ease.

There is now an empty space.

Aziraphale takes another chair and puts it directly in front of Crowley. He then sits down on it. They are close, but there is still some room for Crowley to retreat. However, not enough to escape. Aziraphale breaks his own rule.

"Talk."  
  


"What do you want to hear? I had a bloody amazing day! No, a week! Two in fact!"

A fake laugh escapes from the demon's lips and in tries to conceal his feelings, he looks away from Aziraphale. He fails in his attempts. His head aches and his mouth has a foul taste. Crowley is sure that he is only one step away from throwing up. The carpet would be ruined. It is from Damaskus.

Gray eyes full of fear. Well, one eye, really. The other one was swollen up. A demon standing in front of the man.

Crowley gags and the only thing that he wants to do right now is drink alcohol so much that he forgets his own name. It was a mistake to come here. Mayfair flat would have been much more suitable for his misery. Here this blessed Principality wants him to talk.

"Literally... bloody day, angel. Was there anything else or has our interview ended?"

"No, it has not."   
  


Aziraphale puts his foot down in Crowley’s way in case he wants to flee. He can’t let him. Not in this state.

"It eats you alive. I can see that."  
  


Crowley grits his teeth so hard that his jaw begins to hurt. Great. He deserves this. A glance to the angel in front of him. He snorts. So patient and dedicated is this blond angel with a creature like him. Kind of ridiculous. They should be on their own side yet right now it is very clear who is of Heaven and who is of Hell.

They had been idiots in their naivete and Crowley has every intent to make Aziraphale know of this.

"6000 years...decent amount of time, isn't it? Should be enough to get to know people...their personalities, hobbies and interests...Occupations. I was not just having fun here on Earth. Pulling pranks on everyone and acting all cool... Hell doesn't care about that. They do not give a shit, angel. Never have. These are just possible tools for us. For our true purpose. Hell is to be managed and Earth to be ravished. Our job is to do all the dirty work... To make people's worst nightmares into a reality on this fucking planet named Earth."

He chuckles darkly and removes his glasses to make Aziraphale look truth in the eye. The truth is yellow and serpentine and demonic.

"I'm a demon. My job is to do all kind of things with people... Kill them. Make their life harder. Make them suffer. Do you know why demons mostly hate music? The only music we love is people screaming and begging to stop the pain. I can't describe how good it feels to play an innocent human being and then next second...bury them alive with all their dirty sins that they can spend eternity answering for in enviably hot accommodations with the best kind of personal service that only Hell can provide."  
  


No matter how much Crowley tries, Aziraphale does not break the eye contact. He does not wither under the reptilian sneer.He knows what Crowley says is the truth.At least half-truth. But he sees him through. He knows what Crowley aims to achieve with his menace.  
  


He wants to scare Aziraphale off. He wants to raise his walls up so high that nobody can ever get in again.

Too bad Aziraphale wasn’t planning on going anywhere. Instead, he leans closer, his articulation precise: "I may know you, but I have never had any illusions about a demons’ true nature. I know how gruesome and vile you can be. What you," points to Crowley, "are capable of....So....what did you do?"  
  


For a second Crowley does not know how to react to Aziraphale's communication approach, but then he sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. His head is banging and there is no sign of alcohol's relieving qualities. He must be too agitated for his body to take in the effect.

"Bad things..."

Aziraphale is unimpressed: "That much I can guess."

"I helped them kill people. I gave them... ideas... how to do that. Nasty ideas. They did everything to make them suffer. Die from the shock. Crumble. Perish. I helped them. With my own hands. I did it. I didn't feel any remorse while doing that... I felt..." The demon is getting lost in his thoughts, trying to find adequate words that could at least somewhat describe his experience, his turmoil. "It felt like... a drug. I do not understand. I played the wicked game and I enjoyed it so much.... but at the same time, it wasn't me. That was someone else..."

A monster. A beast who feasts on pain and suffering, blinded and deafened by its bloodlust. A demon who gets the souls. The Eagle's Serpent of Eden.

  
He can't stand it, the bile rolling up from his stomach. He will most certainly ruin Aziraphale's carpet. Air. He needs air. He needs out. Escape. 

"Sit down."

Aziraphale pushes Crowley back to his seat from where he had risen in order to flee.

"You are not running away from this conversation."

Then Aziraphale leans back in his chair, closes his eyes and proceeds to think. He doesn't move for minutes....and then tens of them...

Crowley stays, focusing on reading the angel's body language. Aziraphale is strangely calm in the face of all that the demon just threw at him. Crowley shouldn't be surprised by this. It is not something too new in between them. He has lamented before and Aziraphale has always listened, but today it is different.

It wasn't supposed to happen. They were supposed to be free and yet...

They were almost back to square one. Hell had come for him and he found himself incapable to escape from his nature. From the label that perhaps he isn't fully ready to lose. It is just...

That is not all who he is, isn't it? There is someone else besides the demon. Has to be because why else would an angel, Aziraphale, bother with him?

After almost an hour of silence, Crowley clears his throat and speaks, trying something that may be considered an apology. The angel had been worried. He always is. Why does he care so much about someone like him?

"I wish it hadn't had happened. But... I had to do this. I had no choice. I couldn't disobey.Not..."

"I see..." a very slow murmur cuts Crowley short. The voice...it had changed a bit. It was more thunder-like.

"Let me make my guess... Was it..."

Aziraphale snaps his eyes open. They are almost fully the bright colour of electra blue and not human. They are lion's. He snarls in a strange way, baring his teeth.

"Lucifer?"  
  


Crowley tenses instantaneously at the mention of the name. And Aziraphale's reaction...it is unnerving. Foreign.

"Well... I'm not gonna lie. That was him."

A dangerous twitch in Aziraphale and the demon bolts up, looking at him, suddenly growling: "Don't you dare, Aziraphale. I know what you are planning. I can see the wheels turning behind your eyes. Leave it."

The angel also stands up, locking Crowley in place with his gaze.

"And what do you think my plans are? Hmm?"

The demon's growling intensifies as his muscles tense further: "Do not get yourself involved in this shit, Aziraphale."

The one with the lion’s eyes looks at Crowley, searching his face and when he finds genuineness, with slow huffs and shaking shoulders he starts laughing. Laughing quite so like it is somehow the funniest thing in the universe.

"Hahhahahhahhaahahahah!"

He does not get it. Any of it. Who is this bizarre stranger in his angel's body?

"What? Why are you..." And then he gets it, eyes widening in shock and he bares his teeth in anger. Crowley grabs the laughing angel by the collar and almost shouts into his face:" I asked you not to!"

Aziraphale's smile fades as his face is masked with a shadow of darkness, contrasting his eyes even further with the rest of him and with the room that is too bright and warm.

"I never told you..."

"Why didn't you tell me, angel? Hm?"

"You don’t even know what is it about, do you?"

"No, I don't."

Aziraphale chortles when he releases Crowley’s grip on his collar. He points towards the chair.

"Please, sit."

Crowley does as he is told, figuring it to be the shortest way to some answers. He is not breaking the eye contact while his arms are folded in front of his chest:"So?"  
  


Aziraphale walks to the table, picks up his glass and starts playing with it. He leans against the table, breaking the eye contact himself, choosing to look at his object instead. His voice is calm, but to Crowley's trained eye, the slightest quiver can be seen and heard.

"Lucifer has paid me some visits. Three, to be exact."

"...and?" The grip of his hands tighten and the question had to be pressed through his clenched jaw.

Aziraphale continues to play with the glass. His breathing has become a little more shallow.

"I was...surprised...to say the least. I was ready to fight. But he did not want to fight. He had a...Proposition...For me."

  
"What kind of a proposition? Tell me. Now."

The demon's yellow eyes are glowing.

"He...offered me a...Job. As a demon."

"And you agreed?" his voice has changed, now sounding more dangerous and low.

Aziraphale’s own voice is equally low and dangerous when he replies: "I said he came thrice. The first time he made the offer, he tried to persuade me with flattery. Saying that I would be the most competent and skilled demon in all of Hell. I declined. The second time he came, he offered me position and power. He promised to make me High Prince of Hell, second only to him. I declined.The third time, however,...He had done his research. He offered me something that I truly want...what I most deeply desire...promised me that it would all be mine..."

  
"What is it? And what did you say?"

Crowley slowly stands up, searching for an answer deep in the angel's eyes yet already guessing the contents. He knows Satan's games and he will do his all to keep Aziraphale away from those. "I will kill you with my own fucking hands, angel, if you ever try to communicate with Hell... You have no idea what you are getting yourself into. Tell me. What did he offer you on the third time?"  
  


Aziraphale freezes. Slowly all the light drains out of the room, so there is left nothing but shadows and darkness. The air is still with agitation. Aziraphale’s grip on the glass hardens and hardens with every passing second. His shadow is strange, flickering and changing between shapes.

  
Gradually Aziraphale lifts his gaze and the lion eyes look deeply into demonic gold.

"You."

The glass breaks and the sound of the shatter and fall of the shards are deafening in that horrid silence.  
  


Crowley found himself unable to hold back a flinch. After a couple of minutes, the demon starts pacing around the angel, hips swaying more aggressively than usual. His every movement resembles more of a snake than a human.  
  


"I see. And now you want to be a demon? Hmmm..."  
  


He takes another glass and fills it up with alcohol that appears to replace the empty vodka bottle. At this point, he does not care if he can get himself drunk or not. He just needs something to do. He is not surprised. Not as surprised as he had expected himself to be. Everything makes much more sense. That, however, does not mean that he doesn't feel like someone had kicked him in the stomach.

"How funny. This kind of shit happening behind my back...while... I'm busy burying people alive with my bare hands."  
  


Aziraphale is perplexed for a moment when he watches Crowley pace around. Then his voice is the one of disbelief: "This is your main concern? That whether I am a demon or not. Not that you are basically for sale to anyone who Satan seems fit? Your body and soul. No regards to any of your wants. THAT is not a problem for you?! But me being a demon is?!"  
  


"Yes, that is my main concern"

He takes a sip from his glass and makes a face at drink's taste. He should have miracled something less disgusting.

"That's how Hell works. They can do whatever they want. Want to sell my body? Go on! Want to sell my soul? Yes! I can't go against them... not Lucifer. Not Satan himself." He finishes his drink and smacks the glass on the table, coming closer to Aziraphale with eyes glowing brightly in hurt and anger. "Why do you care?!"  
  


Aziraphale slowly shakes his head, trying to comprehend Crowley's words. His eyes light up with fury and they are glowing with the intensity of the Sun.

"I do not understand how come you care...SO LITTLE ABOUT YOURSELF!"

The angel's shoulders are tense and his face in a grimace of anger. His shadow has turned into something resembling a beast, his true form.

"Do you really have no self-respect, whatsoever? Is your mind really so deprived that you see yourself equal to an exchangeable object?Oh, and you think you are the unholy one of us? Think again. I may have not killed, but the things I have come close to doing....some of the things I have done...." an unnerving smirk appears on his face, "Let us say Lucifer had his reasons for seeking me out. As to why I care....isn’t that obvious?"  
  


"I can't go against Lucifer, angel. That's... almost like going against God. But you have a choice... you can be Fallen after that. I do not. I'm already in the pit... I will be destroyed. The end."

He growls and drinks another glass of alcohol. You can already see the scales on his cheekbones and even the sclera of his eyes have turned yellow, the hints of his demonic form climbing to the surface of his corporation. Yet his words get sadder and more of sorrow when he continues to speak.

"Just... tell me the reasons, angel. Pleassssse. I need to know. I want to understand why..."

Crowley’s hopelessness and defeat should soften Aziraphale’s temper, should calm him. But for some reason....today....it only adds fuel to the fire.

The more he looks at Crowley the more he feels his pulse rising, his jaw clenching, his body starting shaking with anger.

A fury that rips apart his human skin and reveals something marble-like, something with several more electra blue eyes. His face changes: a mix between the flawless marble statue and a terrifying beast. He now almost hovers an inch above the ground when he takes a step towards Crowley.

His voice echoes strangely, keeping the qualities of his usual speech, but also is tightly intertwined with a deepness of a growl of a lion and power of Heaven.

"How are you always so...OBLIVIOUS?!"

His wings unfurl into existence sharply and they radiate and they are magnificent. His whole body is lightened up by his divinity. He has hardly any control now over his form.

For the first time in his existence, Aziraphale is overtaken by Divine Wrath.

"HOW DARE YOU JUDGE ME!I HAVE NO RIGHT TO GET INTO YOUR AFFAIRS BUT SOMEHOW YOU THINK YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO GET INTO MINE?AND YOU KNOW WHAT IS MOST INSULTING? THAT YOU ALREADY THINK OF ME AS SOMEONE WHO WOULD ENSLAVE YOU AND GO TO HELL AS A DEMON WITH A SMILE ON HIS FACE!"  
  


The instant instinctive response is triggered. The demon takes a few steps back and tries to cover himself from the Holy Light that comes from the angel. He can feel the power of Heaven that comes from him, stinging his skin and... For the first time, he is scared for his life. Truly terrified for it.

"Aziraphale. Stop."  
  


The Principality halts for a second.

"STOP? WHAT MAKES YOU THINK THAT YOU ARE IN ANY POSITION TO GIVE ME ORDERS?"

Then he sneers and walks closer, barely rationalizing any of this. His mind is too clouded by rage and hurt and madness. Too blinded to see that he can be a real threat to Crowley.

"OH, IF YOU HAVE SO LOW OPINION OF ME AND THINK THAT I WOULD MAKE SUCH A DEAL WITH THE DEVIL..."

In mockery opens his arms demonstratively wide.

"THEN LET ME BE THE DEPRAVITY YOU SEE ME AS! LET ME BUY YOU FROM LUCIFER AND MAKE YOU MINE BECAUSE THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT WOULD AZIRAPHALE DO, ISN’T IT? BECAUSE AZIRAPHALE IS VILE AND WICKED. HE WAS BORN TO BE A DEMON, BUT ONLY WHEN LUCIFER OFFERS HIM ANOTHER SOUL IS HE HAPPY TO FINALLY TAKE IT ON. HE IS WAY TOO PRIDEFUL OTHERWISE BUT HE CANNOT RESIST THE TEMPTATION OF AN OWNERSHIP. OWNERSHIP OF ANOTHER DEMON. THIS IS EXACTLY WHO I AM TO YOU, AREN’T I?"

Pause.

The last of his patience snaps and he flies over to Crowley in a speed of light and grabs him by the wrists, tightening his grip aggressively, not noticing how his divinity is burning the demon.  
  


The only thing his deranged mind can do is yell. Yell at Crowley. Accusing him of everything and nothing at all.

"ANSWER ME, SERPENT!!!"

“Nonono... I didn't mean that, angel. You are not vile and wicked. You...”

He tries to free himself from Aziraphale's grip but suddenly stops. The angel's touch...it is burning, peeling off his skin with invisible flames. With holy light.

"I said it wrong. I didn't mean to hurt you with my words. Not like that. Never like that."

Another bang of pain makes the demon groan. Soon enough the room is filled with a smell of sulphur and death. Of meat being burned and it disgusts Crowley to no end, the situation not being made better by an excruciating pain on his wrists. The only thing in this demon's mind is to kick the angel away. The harder the blow the better. To get rid of the angel and his touch. The instincts of his deepest demonic nature. The instinct to survive.

"Let. Me. Go, " he hisses through his teeth," I will hurt you. You better fucking let go of me..."

He tries to free his hands from the iron clutch, but that only causes the Holy Light to lick more away from his bleeding and scorched wrists. He can already witness how everything becomes blurry and colours face from his sight. The last attempt to wriggle himself free before unconsciousness or his foot in the angel's stomach, whichever happens first.

"FUCK OFF."

"YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO TELL ME WHO I AM!ONLY I CAN TELL! ONLY I! AND YOU ARE A FOOL! BECAUSE EVERYTHING I DO...EVERYTHING I HAVE EVER DONE IS FOR...."

The angel's eyes register something.

He feels something. Something is becoming limp between his hands.

He smells....sulphur and...burnt meat.

He blinks.

The blur in front of him gets a face. A face with scales and rose skin and yellow eyes.

He blinks again.

He sees clearer. He feels more.

He looks down. He sees his hands holding wrists. Smoking and burnt. Limp.

He can’t believe it. His gaze lifts up again and all he sees is...

His worst nightmare...

Having become a reality.

Mortification paralyzes his body.

The whisper is silent. Nothing compared to the boom before.

Terror.

Fear.

"What have I done?"

He lets go and backs away. Repeating over and over again:

"What have I done?

What have I done?

What have I done?

What have I done?

What have I done?"

Aziraphale stumbles past a mirror and sees himself. He halts. First time fully realising what he has become. What his rage had done to Crowley and himself.

"He was right. He was right all along."

Crowley tries to hold back any noises that could leave his mouth. He stares at his shaking hands. There is smoke coming, the skin is charred and in the dark shade of red, blackness mixed with red streams down, ruining his shirt and jacket. It hurts the same as if the angel's hands were still on him.  
  


He hears them, Aziraphale's words, and somehow the desperation and devastation in them manage to get Crowley to focus on something other than his pain.

"Listen to me, Aziraphale. That's an ORDER."

He clears his throat, his voice failing him miserably: "Stop it right now. No time for panicking. Retreat to your neutral form... RIGHT NOW."

Crowley can't handle it. It is too much and he sits on the floor, pressing his forehead against the bookshelf next to him and tries to ignore the pain that has now consumed his whole body, his temples and wrists flashing the sharpest. He can only mutter: "Help me to heal."

The last words from Crowley’s lips end it.

They seal Aziraphale’s fate and his mind is made up.

His form retreats...gradually...making him more Aziraphale again.

He slowly dares to look at Crowley, see his slumped figure leaning against the bookshelf, see his burnt wrists still sizzling.

The nightmare ends him. Aziraphale knows what needs to be done.

Still, his voice is heartbroken. He had dreams. Beautiful dreams. And now they have all turned to dust.

And there is no one else but him to blame for it.

"I can't. I am not capable of healing wounds of the divinity of this degree. It is not within my power."

Pain.

Suffering.

Punishment.

"Lucifer is clever. He knew..." he looks at his hands, shaking, "He knew. He told me that you will suffer through my own hands. Angels can never touch demons. It can never be. And he was right.”

Aziraphale looks at Crowley, trying to meet his gaze to see his eyes one last time.

"Forgive me for your time. I took an abundance of it. It wasn't fair. I was never fair. I hope you can forgive me that."

He straightens himself up and...smiles?

"Now...I have held you up for too long. I just wanted to say farewell...I have no right to but still. I am selfish."

He chuckles at his final comment before he turns around and starts walking towards the centre of the bookshop

"I will set you free...now and forever. You are free.

You can leave."

The carpet on which Crowley sits starts sliding towards the door, taking the demon with him.

Aziraphale stands in the middle of the bookshop, arms open wide. Ready for...

The angel smiles melancholically at Crowley who is sliding further and further away.

"It is alright...Monstrum criminis reus erit."1

Aziraphale claps his hands and every single glass surface in the bookshop breaks, creating a terrifying shattering.

All the mirrors.

All the glasses.

All the windows.

The pieces rise up in the air, the sharp points directed towards the angel in the room.He opens his arms again, fully embracing what is to come.

What must be done.

Another second.

And everything flies.

Crowley's carpet takes him out of the bookshop when the last thing he sees is every single object...piece of furniture...thing... in Aziraphale's bookshop flying towards the angel, attacking him with all the fury and burying him underneath.

That collision is the last thing Crowley sees when the carpet takes him away. Far away.

Until it gently lands in a private corner of St. James’s Park.

For a few minutes, Crowley does nothing, except for sitting on a carpet that took him away from one miserable soul. From the one to whom he had given his devotion and trust.

One of his own. His angel. His Aziraphale.

He tries to stand up and he staggers quite a bit yet managing to avoid the fall. The demon looks down at his hands, testing their moveability but only moans as a response.

"Stupid angel. Stupid...why..."

He tries to blink away the tears that terrorize his eyes, his body having realized before his mind what had just occurred.

There was supposed to be their own side, not needing to serve anybody. It was supposed to be about two of them together. Then why had things gone so array? Why had their dreams of freedom and happiness collapsed into ruin like a card house?   
  


"Aziraphale..." the demon sniffles and starts walking back to Aziraphale's shop. The pain is here, but he doesn't care. Even the blurry vision of his eyes doesn't stop him from marching towards his goal. He does not march, rather than saunter, shoulders hunched and hands held close, not wanting to do any unnecessary movements that would cause another flash of sharp pain.

The night is late and not many amble on the street.

When he finally arrives, he does not attempt to open the door to the bookshop, fearing what he would find inside. What horrid nightmare.

"Aziraphale... are you... there?" he calls weakly.

The door slowly drifts open, revealing darkness.

A little bit closer and it could easily be seen that the front room was empty.

An even closer inspection and a large mountain of everything found in the bookshop can be seen in the middle of the building.

It is grand and chaotic. Destruction.

On top of the mountain...can't be sure....is that....a figure? A dark figure?

The demon dares to enter, eyes glued on the figure. He stops.

"...Aziraphale?"

The figure is lean, dressed in a perfectly fitted black suit. The shoes are spotless and crimson. She leans against the cane, which handle is a silver head of an eagle, like an elegant gentleman.  
  


The hair is golden and beautiful.

She doesn’t even need to turn around.

She knows that he knows.

"Oh, he must be somewhere down here. Quite deep, I am afraid."

"Lucifer..."

The demon groans and leans against the door frame, everything still hurting.

"What are you doing here?" he asks before sighing deeply. Satan is the last person he wants to see, wants to see near Aziraphale in such a way that Lucifer has been fashioning for far too long. 

In a way that can only harm his angel.

"Leave or I will rip you into pieces."

* * *

  1. "The monster shall be punished." The scholars had been right about one thing. Latin was the language of the angels and demons. Don't ask why. Nobody really knows.




	2. The Calculations Could Have Been More Nice And Accurate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer is in the bookshop and Crowley’s day is going to get from bad to worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter is up. For now updates are planned on Mondays and Fridays. It may vary but this is the schedule I try to stick with.
> 
> Feedback is always welcome.
> 
> This post has an illustration to accompany the text with.
> 
> In my head I have fancast Charlize Theron to play the character of Lucifer. In fact, she inspired me to create Lucifer, so, I am very grateful for the inspiration she gives me.
> 
> Also some musical themes to get you in the mood.
> 
> [Theme song 1](https://youtu.be/o87vay63FZ0)
> 
> [Theme song 2](https://youtu.be/SM8PU-mTSaI)
> 
> [Theme song 3](https://youtu.be/9YJhgW06dfA)

* * *

  
"Why...such attitude, Crowley."

The inventor of the devilish grin turns around and smirks. There has probably never been another creature who oozes such power and lethal beauty like Lucifer Morningstar, The Queen of all Hell. Her face is carved with perfection, everything about it sitting just right. Nothing too much, nothing lacking. One gaze of her piercing green eyes or a smile of enchantment is enough to get everyone under her spell. Well, almost everyone.

Each movement is the one of elegance when she begins to descend from the mountain of furniture, using objects underneath her shoes as steps.

"I heard you did a great job with," The Devil likes to klick her tongue, "the burials."

Suddenly she stops and her eyes go big in surprise. Dramatically she puts her hand to her ear and listens.

There is something. Something alive.

"My....he is more resistant than I thought."

"Shut up. Just shut the hell up."

Yes, there was one to whom Lucifer's charms were like water on the feathers of ducks. That somebody was Anthony J. Crowley and he had none of her games. You are prone to become immune to them when you have known somebody for as long as Crowley has known Lucifer. You are then also able to pick up on the subtle hints hidden into the depths of the mocking.

Still hunched, he approaches the mountain, once reaching it, he starts moving the things away. Each lift and effort is accompanied by his hissing. His wrists are bleeding, but the demon doesn't care about that. He needs to dig up Aziraphale or whatever is left of him. He wants Lucifer to leave and at the moment he is ready to do anything to make it happen.

"Leave. Push more of my buttons and I will kill you."

"Oh, you are so amusing! I really do miss you. You always make my day..."

She jumps off of the pile and strides next to him, her hand absentmindedly playing with her cane. She towers over everything. Even without heels, she is easily a head taller than Crowley. She puts her hand on his shoulder and giggles as she finishes her sentence: "Much more entertaining."

Crowley grits his teeth when he feels her familiar touch on his shoulder.

"Look, if you are not going to help me then leave and find your entertainment elsewhere."

Funny thing, that pain and determination on your goal. You stop caring about anything else. Even Satan does not frighten you.

This one is going to be heavy - he thinks, looking at the bookshelf that, unfortunately, has to be the next item to be pulled out from the pile. He inhales and puts his hands on the piece of furniture, preparing himself for this excruciating act.

One.

Two.

Three.

"Argh!" with loud groans and a great struggle he manages to get the bookshelf out of his way. His eyesight loses all the visual capacity and he falls onto his knees, trying to regain it. His hands are shaking as his injuries had gotten worse and furthermore, a mixture of black and red flows from the wounds.

Lucifer looks down at his bleeding wrists. She pulls back on her playfulness and now she is acting as if dealing with Crowley is an equivalent to being an annoyed parent.

“Through sweat and blood...” she mutters as she almost reaches out with her hand to place it on his, but then restrains the urge and pats him on the shoulder instead. She walks away with the agilemovement of her hips rather similar to Crowley's sashay. She sits on the piece of pulled out furniture and proceeds to watch Crowley, her fingers playing on the head of the eagle, stroking its sharp beak.

"I told him...I told him he will hurt you..." she chuckles as she shakes her head, " but he hardly likes to listen. Why do you keep bothering? What is one angel worth?"

"Listen... What do you want?"

Meanwhile, Crowley had gotten his eyesight back and he has gone back to removing furniture from his way. This time with even more effort. A human would have fainted already due to the blood loss, but he isn't human, now, is he?

One quick look at the wounds and he cringes nonetheless before he turns to the figure who is not even the least bit helpful.

"What will my answers give you? Nothing worthwhile. I did my job...I buried them alive. Blood was spilt. Done. Exactly as you requested. What more do you want from me?"

"And you did great!" is Lucifer's patronizing reply. Then the green in her eyes takes on a darker shade and so does her smile.

"But I am not here for you. I am here for him."

The demon's whole body tenses when he follows the direction of her finger that is pointing towards the pile. He nearly gasps. From the depths, it can be seen. A golden ring and a hand attached to it. A hand of red, full of glass.

The last threatening look to Lucifer and already he is on his knees removing the items while trying to not harm the owner of the hand any further.

"I won't let you take him away. If you try to do something...anything...then there will be a fight. Understood?"

That thought hits him with a rather sharp twinge of guilt. He shakes it off, however, the pain in his hands, that are completely soaked with his blood, subdues any other feelings Crowley might have. Almost any other. Bunch of books are removed and, finally, the ginger is able to see the angel's face.

"...Aziraphale?"

The face in front of Crowley looks horrendous, covered with sharp shards, cutting the skin almost from every angle.

It is bleeding red. At least that is something that calms the demon a skosh, although Aziraphale still otherwise looks like he has taken both the beating and the stabbing of the century.

The angel groans. Barely.

Meanwhile, Lucifer is sitting casually, observing the situation like it is a stage production. She keeps on smiling as she comments: "I am not taking him anywhere. I prefer a more...localizedapproach."

Crowley gently touches Aziraphale's face, analyzing the damages and then brings his eyes back onto Lucifer. 

"Localized approach? Ah.... yeah."

He smiles and returns his gaze to Aziraphale, having gotten his own idea from her words. Slowly the sharp shards begin to disappear and some of the wounds on the angel to heal.

Something warm buzzes through Crowley all the way to his fingertips. He fails to stop himself from growing his smile wider.

The sensation of heat and tingling in his body, when he heals, is something that he never realized he had missed. As a demon, hurting is more up to his usual repertoire. Healing was something primal to him thousands of years back. He is glad that this part hasn't fully left him. No matter what Lucifer thinks of it. She can't stop him. She never could.

"Reminds me of times when we were angels... Oh... there were perks to being one. Sometimes it was even fantastic. Wasn't it, dear sinned sister?" Crowley looks at Lucifer while continuing to heal Aziraphale.

There is a reason why Crowley can play cocky with Satan. He holds the trump card that no-one else in Hell has. A card that can turn Satan or Master into Lucifer on his tongue.

A card that one obtains when created from the same essence as the two demonic siblings.

The sister squints her eyes at her brother in annoyance, clicking her tongue again.

Then she sighs and with the aid of her cane pushes herself up from her seat.

She dusts herself off and then strides to Crowley, stopping by his side. She looks down at the two of them with almost...a pity.

"I offered him an alternative. Offered him thrice and every time he refused. He would have been a great demon. He would have done great things. But now..." she shakes her head in regret," he is no asset to either side."

Lucifer puts her hand into Crowley’s short hair and strokes it with something similar to affection.

"I think it is better if you go. I will put an end to this miserable situation."

"Aziraphale is not this kind of... creature. He wouldn't be able to be a demon, Lucifer. Not this kind that you would want him to be."

Gently he removes her hand from his hair and chuckles despite himself. What could he do? He felt the almost care in her touch, but right now neither she or her touch belong here. It is Aziraphale's bookshop. It is his place and no demon or angel that he doesn't want should be here.

The carpet had flown out. The last thing that Crowley saw was Aziraphale being buried underneath his own creation. This pain that the demon had felt on that instant hurt a thousand times worse than anything that divinity had done to him.

Aziraphale did not want him here and despite it all, Crowley is still sitting by his side, trying to heal his angel with the literal Devil sitting on his shoulder. Or rather standing next to it. Has he any moral right to go against Aziraphale's wishes and his own statement and reasoning in pushing Lucifer away?

A grimaced half-smile touches his mouth. He is a demon and they follow the path of iniquity.

He probably should respond to Lucifer, however.: "Please, do not touch me... and... I won't go anywhere."

"You would not want to see this."

She starts kneading air with her fingers, as if she was weaving something, creating something.

The air in the room dries.

Little sparks start to appear between her fingers. They twirl and roam until they become bigger and wilder.

They unite into a flame.

A flame that is bluer, hotter and deadlier than any other.

It is The Devil’s hellfire.

"Lucifer... "Crowley growls upon seeing and feeling the flame. He stands in front of Aziraphale, trying to protect him with his body. This is exactly what he had wanted to avoid. All these 6000 years he had kept an eye on Hell and with that, he had hoped to avoid Satan's interference as well. Another reason why he had obeyed Lucifer in the first place when she came to him two weeks ago. To protect Aziraphale.

It has always been about that. This is how Crowley has rationalized it all to himself. Protection, not harm. Life over death.

Love over hate.

It is the truth. His truth.

Right?

At the moment...

Yes.

"Go away. Please... I'm ready to do more dirty work if you would just go. Anything you want. Just let him be."

Lucifer only chuckles at this, playing with a fire on her hand.

"Crowley...it is not about you. Well... it is a little but not in a way that you think."

Lucifer bows down a bit to meet Crowley’s eye level, gently pushing the head of her cane underneath his chin.

"I know that you are a good little demon and do as I ask."

Her face loses the smile and with that, the last of the light in the bookshop submits to darkness. Lucifer's face becomes harder, more menacing.

"Mostly," she says as she leans closer. The shadows behind her move.

"You were careless with my son. Lost him. And then..." there is a chuckle, but it is more sinister than any of her previous ones, "you tried to rebel, killed one of my demons with holy water. You...surprised me. And that rarely happens."

She opens her mouth in surprise, blinking her eyes dramatically. When she tilts her head a loud crack can be heard.

"And then I remembered...there is an angel who you have been consorting with."

She laughs. It is deep and unnerving, not quite human.

"For 6000 years there has always been an angel with you. And then I thought... what kind of a sibling would I be if I don't investigate the person who my brother has been intermingling with."

The Devil glances at her hellfire before slowly lifting her gaze back to Crowley.

"The things I found out about him...tsk tsk tsk...quite sinful. And then I realized that he could be so much of use in my ranks. I asked him. And he declined. Again."

She looks at Crowley’s bleeding and burnt hands, grimacing at the sight.

"He is a hypocrite. In fact, his whole existence is. Playing an angel when he is not. Playing a demon when he is not. Playing....when really...he is nothing." Her eyes finally befall on Aziraphale but there is nothing except disgust and glower. "Nothing but a problem."

"If he's a problem...then why make him into much more of a nuisance by personally attending to the matter? Just leave him here. Why spend your precious time on this angel?"

Suddenly there is a smile on the other demon's lips.

"I know why, Lucifer. Why you are really here. Why you wanted me on this carnage.

Revenge.

Lost your son. Lost one of the demons. A duke nonetheless. I am not stupid. I know what you want"

Crowley's eyes are completely consumed by the yellow and slits of The Serpent. They dig deep into Lucifer's green. "You have business with me. Not him."

She does not blink under Crowley's piercing gaze. Instead, she pushes her cane harder on his throat, the beak of the eagle scraping his skin. The shadows behind her become more alive.

"All things considered problems are obstacles that prevent the system from working. And I..." her eyes are changing, transforming into something not from this world, "eliminate all my problems. Step aside."

"I won't," a dangerous growl escapes from Crowley's throat and he grabs her cane, yanking it from her hand. 

"Leave, Lucifer."

The shadows have formed something deadly behind her, being only held back by Lucifer’s control. In return of his curtesy, she grabs one of Crowley's injured hands and digs her nails into his wound, squeezing harder with every passing second. Lucifer's voice is very sinister, her eyes are reflecting the flames of Hell.

"Last warning.

Step aside.

Do. Not. Make. Me. Make. You."

Something like a mix of a hiss and a growl is heard from the serpentine demon. Crowley bares his teeth, pushing the head of the cane against Lucifer's shoulder.

"You won't. I'm not scared of you."

He smiles, showing off his fangs. Red and black scales are covering his neck and going underneath his shirt.

"Cr...Crow...Crowley?"

There is a quiet, barely audible voice behind the siblings.

"Angel... Angel, wake up. Stand up and LEAVE," Crowley growls the last word as an order, feeling another wave of pain in his arm that Lucifer is so generously penetrating with her nails and clutch. If he cannot make her leave then perhaps he can make him leave. He suppresses another groan. Do what she will, but he will stand his ground. This is between him and her and it shall be settled.

"I will rip you into pieces, dear sister... and this shit hurts."

Lucifer throws a look at Aziraphale, analyzing his condition.

Aziraphale's eyes are still closed and the only thing that gives any sign of his returning consciousness is his breathing and quiet grunts.

She turns her eyes back to stare into Crowley’s. The most haunting and deprived grin appears on her face, it baring her own fangs and stretching her mouth abnormally wide.

"Even if he wants to, he can't. He's barely conscious and his legs are crushed. And I think he is in no condition to heal himself. At this point, hellfire would be considered merciful."

Silence. Everything has stilled. The Serpent and The Devil.

Waiting.

And then she attacks.

She lets herself be covered with her hellfire.

She manages to slip from the pressure of the cane on her shoulder and leaps onto Crowley, her shadows following suit.

Her nails have grown into ones of a monster, the ones digging into Crowley’s arm almost impale it.

Her other hand is strangling him by his neck, scraping and squeezing harder.

Her knee and shadows are pushing him to the ground, trying to hold him in place.

The Serpent's free hand lets go of the cane and flings up, grabs Lucifer's neck and digs its sharp nails into the skin, making her bleed.

She leans closer, her face deformed and eyes blazing.

And she roars.

She roars with the voice of The Devil.

"YOU ARE A DEMON! YOU BELONG TO ME! TO ME AND NO ONE ELSE!

AND I WILL MAKE SURE THAT YOU WILL NEVER FORGET ABOUT IT AGAIN!"

Her eyes get terrifyingly wide, seeing things that usually remain hidden.

She finds his aura, sees his mind and without hesitation bashes into it.

"Fuck you..." wheezes Crowley, trying to free himself from her strong grip. He looks into her eyes and feels it... something entering him without consent, breaking through the wall. She is there and suddenly...spreading unstoppably like a swarm of locusts, she is everywhere. She takes away his control, finds, pulls out all that can make him suffer and cause torture.

"Stop it... stopstopstop..."

She violates it, abuses it, ravages it. His mind. All the memories, thoughts and feelings are mushed together into a chaotic mess that keeps swirling around. He can barely understand reality.

Thousands of eyes flashing before his. Millions of faces. So many voices from begs to screams to laughs.

Blood. Hell. Desperation. Joy. Horror. Pain. Love. Hope. Misery.

Everything at once and it is too much, simply too much to handle. Holding onto that tiny grasp of reality that he has, Crowley can feel himself trashing underneath her, losing control over himself. Or whatever is left of it.

No.

This is not how he goes.

He breathes in as much as he can and screams on top of his lungs.

"AZIRAPHALE... GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!! H..."

Crowley doesn't finish his sentence, making eye contact with Lucifer, smiling wickedly. He lets her know.

He shall not submit.

He shall defy her.

Like he did with their Mother.

"I won't... give.... up... bitch."

Aziraphale’s head bangs.

Everything hurts.

It hurts...physically...which means that he did not discorporate.

He is still here in his bookshop and it hurts.

Alright...he did not get to go to Heaven...or Hell to demand himself a punishment.

A punishment for hurting a demon.

They would applaud him for it in Heaven and congratulate him for it in Hell.

His stomach is churning and a vile taste is in his mouth with something metal...blood.

To them, he has hurt a demon.

To himself, he has hurt Crowley.

Most beloved Crowley.

He feels fire underneath his fingers, burning away Crowley’s wrists.

He remembers Crowley’s terror.

Aziraphale wants to cry but everything hurts and he knows he has no energy for it.

Maybe this is his punishment...facing the truth every single day, knowing what he has destroyed. It is cruel and yet so fitting.

Perfect for the monster.

He needs to move. Slowly he opens his eyes.

First, all he sees is blackness and for a second he thinks he has gone blind. Then he starts to make out the outline of his roof window, now without glass, the edge of the second floor...

He hears thumps and crashes, groans and bangs.

Very very dully.

His head screams in agony.

His ears are ringing.

Somewhere...someone...screams?

"Aziraphale...get the fuck out of here!"

It sounds so very distant but even through his disorientation and pain, he knows exactly to whom this voice belongs to.

His lips try the name again.

"Crowley?"

He wants to sit but there is no strength in his hands to push himself up. He tries to move his feet and realises that he does not sense them at all. He gulps. Suspicion creeping to him.

_Later. Think about it later._

Aziraphale then tries his best and manages to turn his head to the side, although with a hiss-worthy sharp pain in his temple.

On the side he sees them.

A thing, a mass of shadows swarming and serving the owner. Through the shadows, there can be seen two figures: one with ginger hair and scales, the other, female-like creature, up in blue flames.

They are fighting, bleeding, screaming.

He hears sounds. They are a little louder now. Closer.

And then the creature’s blazing gaze shoots onto him.

The angel has woken and her gaze meets his. Her hands and body and shadows are crushing Crowley underneath her.

The angel’s eyes are greenish-brown. Hazy. Helpless.

Her throat is bleeding. Barely an issue.

Her gaze falls back onto Crowley who still tries to defy her.

The most devious grin tears her face. She is still in him. She makes her way around his mind or rather the mess of it. She finds what she is looking for.

She walks in, sensing his every muscle and joint, every bodily function.

She yanks him up from his bleeding throat and when she finally stands on her feet,Lucifer brings Crowley closer to her face, his feet dangling in the air, not being able to reach the ground.

She feels his body.

She commands simply.

"Kill him."

She throws him to the ground, taking good grip of every single invisible string attached between her mind and Crowley’s body.

Crowley groans when his body hits the ground. Then with sudden ease, he is on his feet and already is begins to walk slowly towards Aziraphale.

He can't do anything about it. He has no control.

He's a weapon in The Devil's hands.

"That's a dirty game here... Lucifer..." the demon hisses, anger and disappointment evident in his voice. Despite everything...Crowley had hoped that his sister wouldn't stoop so low. Wouldn't use him like that. But he had been wrong. Like he had been wrong about everything lately and that is the fire that truly feeds his suffering.

He is standing in front of the angel. His nails are now long black talons, ready to hurt Aziraphale. Crowley can feel how panic blooms in his chest. Everything is happening against his will. Everything boils into catastrophe.

"Aziraphale... Please. I beg you. I don't care how but save yourself. " The demon laughs nervously. "I'm gonna kill you, angel. You better run."

Aziraphale stares at Crowley in terror. Not because of his own fate, but Crowley’s.

His most precious demon is bleeding and burnt and being manipulated.

Enslaved.

He can see the pain, the plea in the demon’s eyes.

  
  


He wants to save him. He wants to save and free Crowley.

But the answer for Crowley’s final request and his own wish is the same.

"I can’t."

The panic has reached the demon's eyes. They are searching for a way to save Aziraphale. He sees it.... a bigger shard of glass laying near the angel's reach. Sharp enough to cut deep.

"Aziraphale..." the demon calls the angel and musters strength in himself to motion with his eyes towards the shard.

"...stab me," the lips move without a voice. The talons are lifted, ready to slice the angel's throat. Crowley can only hope that Aziraphale will do as he asked. He would not be able to bear the weight of his deed and everyone in this room knows it.

Aziraphale follows Crowley’s gaze with his eyes and sees the shard. He squints for a second and upon realising he is mortified.

Does Crowley know?

Does Crowley know that this is no ordinary shard, but a glass of a carafe that has held the holy water?

Which means it is blessed....which means it will annihilate Crowley upon contact.

Aziraphale shoots his gaze to the sky, reaching as far and as high as possible.

His mind turns to the holiest of things.

To prayer.

_God...I beg you....help me save him...help him save himself...my only prayer to you...I beg...God..._

_God._

An idea.

It all happens in a second.

Aziraphale is in the centre of the room. It is the core of his bookshop.

On it is a pentagramic circle. It has different functions. It can be activated with the right words.

The circle should be wide enough. Crowley should remain inside of it.

The outlines of the circle can create holy light upon activating.

Holy light can cut through the demonic.

Cut Crowley free.

The words leave his mouth before...

"Luceat Lux!"1

Before Aziraphale realises his grave error.

The thing is that Aziraphale’s memory is not 100% accurate. It can make mistakes. It can make false calculations.

Crowley is indeed inside of the circle.

Unfortunately, he is also on one of the lines of that circle.

A few seconds and the ground rattles. A few seconds and Crowley attacks. A few seconds and Lucifer knows what shall destroy Crowley instantly before any of them know it.

"Crowley!" Lucifer screams in terror.

A push and Crowley falls onto Aziraphale.

Bang.

Holy light.

Her deafening shriek filling the bookshop.

Everything happens too fast for Crowley when he is pushed. He falls on top of Aziraphale with a grunt. There is heat and the strings are cut. His mind feels too empty when the foreign presence vanishes. He feels his body again which at the moment does not bring him anything more than an all-consuming rippling of pain. The banging in his head is killing him.

No.

It is something else that has penetrated his soul. That has flashed in the deepest part of him. So sharp and devastating.

Her deafening shriek. Not just some ambiguous her, but his sibling. His sister.

"Lucifer!" Crowley tries to sit up immediately but fails and he grabs his head as to the headache an extra dose of dizziness is added.

"...Lucifer..." he moans helplessly through his pain.

Holy light illustrates the delicate lines of the circle.

It is beautiful.

And deadly.

Aziraphale is too shocked to do anything. His mind hardly registers his surroundings.

Then he feels a body on him. He hears it hiss and moan. In pain. But not forced.

Free.

Aziraphale turns to look at the aggressor of this whole horrible situation and freezes at the sight.

"Crowley..." he whispers gently before dismissing the light.

"Lux demisit!"2

The light disappears, revealing what is on the other side.

There is a figure curled underneath a pair of golden wings. For someone so tall, she has managed to curl into a very small shape.

There is some blood on the wings. Red and silver.

The only things that can be seen from underneath the gold-feathered limbs are one outstretched arm and one leg. They are, however, in a very abnormal angle and they seem to be a little too far away from the body.

The figure whimpers and trembles.

Crowley feels especially rebellious tonight and upon noticing the figure underneath the gold, he rebels against his pain. He snaps his fingers and some of Aziraphale's wounds are healed, but at the same time his own figure becomes much more exhausted.

The demon stands up and almost loses his balance, but thanks to sheer willpower he remains standing. His gaze is fixed on the being who needs to be attended to. He does not care what she did to him. He will not let her...

He swallows the thought and slowly stumbles towards her, each step unsteady. When he finally reaches her, he sits down and places his hands on her wings.He grits his teeth when he realizes that her silent whimpering and trembling are that kind off which one creates when the amount of pain is too intolerable.

He ignores everything else, his focus being on her. In helping her.

He begins to caress her and whisper soft and quiet words to her. He weaves into his chanting a sleeping spell, hoping to bring peace to her mind and take her into the mercy of painless sleep.

Crowley’s words indeed calm her down and help her lull to slumber, but his touch also reveals something else.

The damage that holy light can cause a demon. Even The Devil.

The touch on one of her wings is enough and it slides off from underneath Crowley’s hand.

As it slides down from her side, it takes along her outstretched arm and leg, fully revealing the horrendous sight. Showing a conclusion of what happens if a demon is even partially caught by the holy light.

The conclusion is that this demon’s wing, arm and leg are no longer attached to her body.

Aziraphale finally manages to push himself up to sit. It still hurts but at least he can move. Partially.

He turns around, trying to crawl closer to Crowley, but his legs are useless.

He sees what Crowley is trying to do and when her mutilation is revealed, he gasps in shock: "My..."

Crowley did not need his angel's gasp to start nearly sobbing himself. He swallows down his tears like he is swallowing down the humongous amount of guilt that is threatening to drag him under alongside with pain that is inclined to strangle him senseless.

A memory resurfaces. When they were in Heaven. They raced across the skies. All four of them. Gabriel and he were very competitive. Michael was fast but no one could beat The Golden Eagle of Heaven in flying.

And now?

The Serpent strokes her head gently for a while; until he is sure that she is asleep. He snaps his fingers and a small blanket appears, covering Lucifer's body, offering at least a poor illusion of comfort.

"Sleep, my dear. You need it... sorry."

How pathetic was the apology. How wrong and not nearly enough. He should do more, but he can't.

A humourless chuckle escapes his lips. They both had played themselves in the corner with this futile spar. A fight that had such high price.

And there is a third party involved as well.

Crowley slowly stands up and returns to Aziraphale, sitting next to him. He nuzzles against the angel's neck and takes a deep breath.

He is an idiot. Might as well speak as one.

"Silly angel... I love you."

There is a quiet pained laugh from Crowley. He doesn't move, trying to save energy to heal himself and others. Attempt at least. He sees the angel's legs and swallows thickly.

Aziraphale’s arms wrap around Crowley instinctively the moment the demon nuzzles against his neck.

He should be afraid to touch him after what he had done, but right now he did not care.

He is selfish.

All he wants to do is hold him.

Aziraphale buries his face into Crowley’s hair which is sweaty and bloody and dirty, but he does not care. It is still Crowley’s hair and he is alive. Hurt but alive.

He hears Crowley’s confession and his heart flutters. He wants to reply, to say something but he has no voice to articulate any of this.

So he just holds Crowley a little tighter.

Then he feels something. Something tingles. Something cracks. He freezes.

A sensation...it slowly returns to his legs. Crowley is healing them.

After Crowley is done he breathes out the final instructions.

"Angel... I will most likely lose my consciousness soon. Take care of her."

Not even a second later the demon has fully submitted into an unavoidable enervation.

Aziraphale holds the demon’s limp figure in his arms for several more minutes, trying to process all that has happened today.

He does not get very far with his thoughts when he notices that the blanket that is covering Lucifer’s body has started to soak through with her blood.

He sighs.

There is no time for contemplations.

He needs to start cleaning up the mess.

* * *

  1. “Light shine!”
  2. “Light dismissed!” The translators can never be too accurate, but thankfully the circle seems to understand.




	3. Less Is More And Perhaps A Bit Too Much

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time has passed and the bookshop is now hosting two unconscious demons. The tea is almost spilt when one pair of eyes finally decide to open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for chapter three.
> 
> I may reschedule my update dates a bit but the updates will still occur twice a week.
> 
> This chapter shows a bit of an aftermath after the diabolical fight between the siblings.
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

Aziraphale has no idea how this catastrophe has managed to remain so hush-hush.

For the first several weeks, he had expected the league of Archangels or the elite of Hell to barge in, demand explanations and to create even more havoc than there already was.

They never came.

Maybe the system is really so broken or maybe...

It was Her rare interference.

The kettle whistles and Aziraphale pours hot water into his medical infusion and his teacup.

He takes the silver tray and walks upstairs.

It is a sunny day here in Soho and the bookshop is full of warm light.

Aziraphale has managed to settle most of the things back to their usual place. There is this one corner, but it is not that much of his concern. He keeps it for the future; when he has to do more waiting and he needs to kill time.

He has reached upstairs and first, he turns to the right.

There, behind a bookshelf is a little makeshift room with a large bed and a lot of utensils.

On the bed she lays, a ray of sunlight caressing her face. It is sunken and pale but still beautiful. A memory of Morningstar, the brightest star that has ever been created.

Aziraphale settles the tray down and picks up the clean bandages. He soaks them in his infusion and then proceeds to remove the old ones from her.

Upon seeing her wounds, he smiles.

Finally, they have stopped bleeding.

For the past several months, Aziraphale has searched and studied everything that could possibly be of any use in regards to healing a demon.

He had tested many of the things, but they seldom helped.

Every day she bled and every day he had tried a new remedy, and cleaned her wounds and bandaged them again.

Today, finally, had been a breakthrough.

He had been nervous, testing his new infusion. To this he had added a little bit of divinity.

He had figured that if the damaged had been caused by holy light, then perhaps something holy can fix it.

It couldn't.

But, as it turned out, it has helped to make the situation at least a tad bit better.

He finishes bandaging her up again and gently pulls a blanket over her frail body.

The other golden wing shimmers under the light of the Sun.

Her breathing is stable. She has not woken up yet. Not once. Aziraphale smiles sadly when he leaves her.

He walks around the inner balcony to the other side and enters another makeshift bedroom.

There sleeps Crowley. Today there is more colour on his face and he looks healthier.

Aziraphale takes his teacup and sits on a chair by Crowley’s bedside, hand stroking the hair out of the demon’s face.

Then he takes his hand and holds it in his, stroking the scars on his wrist.

He leans down and kisses his knuckles and then begins to finally sip his tea.

Crowley had not waken up either, ever since that ordeal many months ago.

Aziraphale understands.

Another sip and he closes his eyes, trying to relax a bit, one hand still holding Crowley’s.

It was indeed a beautiful day in Soho.

And, for the first time, there is a response to Aziraphale's touch. A squeeze and an inhale of breath. The demon slowly opens his yellow eyes and a weak smile appears on his lips when his eyes pick up a very familiar silhouette.

" 'Ziraphale... Angel..."

Crowley squeezes his hand once more and blinks a couple more times, trying to get used to the light that shines through the window above his head.

Aziraphale almost chokes on his tea, when he feels the squeeze. He only nearly manages to avoid spilling tea all over his waistcoat. He puts the teacup aside and clasps Crowley’s hand with both of his. A huge wave of relief crosses his features and he asks softly: "Crowley...you are awake. How are you feeling?"

The demon offers a sleepy smile in return when he is able to more properly make out the blond curly haired angel of Heaven who happens to own the best bookshop in all of London.

"Much better... Still feeling rather weak though. Might just sleep for another 100 years.. haha..." Then he squeezes the angel's hand harder. " How long I was asleep? Lucifer? How is she? Is she..... alive?" In the end, Crowley's voice breaks, tread making his following breath shaky. Images flash before his eyes. Of limbs and blood, figures trembling in pain.

"Well, you have been sleeping for..." tilts his head, thinking, and then blinks his eyes in a surprising realisation, "10 months? Has it really been that long?"

Aziraphale coughs, stealing a few more seconds for himself before answering Crowley.

"Lucifer, she...ugh..."

The angel shifts uncomfortably in his chair, darting his gaze around, not wanting to look into Crowley's eyes. At last, he seems to find the right words and stops fidgeting. He looks at him and smiles.

"Today....today she is doing better."

Then he sighs and comes to sit on Crowley's bedside, now taking both of Crowley’s hands into his. His face is serious and sorrowful.

"Crowley...listen to me...I have tried to heal her for all those months and today...finally...it has started to go somewhere.

But you have to understand this...that she will never..." he gulps," That she will never get them back. There is no remedy for demons, who suffer holy injuries that are so....severe. I can’t fix her. I am sorry, Crowley."

"I knew that...10 months ago...No need to be sorry... Thank you for taking care of her," Crowley sighs with a sad smile on his face. This wasn't a lie to make Aziraphale feel better. He indeed had known almost the instant that he saw the detachment of her limbs. Despite that, however, he had hoped for a miracle. He had always been a fool in that regard. Hopefulness and to some extent optimism had been his deadly sins since the very beginning. Caused him more trouble than good. A glance to Aziraphale's downcast but pretty face, beautiful face, and Crowley rephrases the sentence in his head. Hopefulness and optimism have caused him more trouble than good in most instances.

With his free hand, he motions Aziraphale to come closer to him.

"Come here, angel."

Aziraphale obliges, letting Crowley’s hand guide him into an embrace. He notices his scars again and hides his face into a blanket that is covering Crowley, his hand clenching into a fist by his side.

He mumbles into the fabric: "Why are you thanking me? Because of me, this whole thing happened. You got hurt because of me. She got hurt because of me."

"I'm thanking you because you took care of us for 10 months. You were making sure that we're safe." He places his hands on Aziraphale's face, lifting it from his blanket-covered chest and wanting the angel to look him in the eye. "Listen to me. We all made mistakes. Huge mistakes. But...we shouldn't dawdle on them for the rest of eternity. Otherwise...we will never get out of this slump. Let us agree that horrible things happened that we never intended to happen and go on from there. 6000 years. One night shall not undo all those years for me. I will not let it."

On purpose he does not let Aziraphale say anything and instead places a soft kiss on his lips, intending to convince them both of his words. After that, he quickly asks,scanning the angel with worry: "How are you feeling? Has everything healed? You were injured..."

The kiss surprises Aziraphale but he quickly warms up to it. After Crowley’s lips leave his, Aziraphale kisses the burnt wrist and nuzzles into the demon's hand, eyes closed.

"My injuries are fine. You did a great job, my dearest." He opens his greenish-brown eyes that shimmer under the light. "I never managed to reply to you...why I had gotten upset in the first place...I..."

"Argh..."

A weak and painful groan from the other side of the bookshop catches their attention immediately and they exchange glances.

"Lucifer!" Crowley exclaims and in a matter of seconds, he is out off the bed, almost falling to the floor as he does this and then stumbles out of the room towards the other one where the noise came from.

"Crowley! Wait!"

Aziraphale follows quickly suit and stops by the entrance, staying behind to give the siblings some space and to observe the interaction.

Crowley had stopped in the middle of the room, watching his sister and searching for words that could start a conversation. Nothing feels appropriate so he settles on a quiet: "Lucifer, are you awake?"

Lucifer is awake, her back facing her brother and the angel.

She has pushed the blanket away, revealing her fragile and sickly body covered in bandages.

Her attached wing drapes over the bed to the floor, being too big to fit without folding. She is curled up in a ball, constantly shivering in cold and pain.

Her hand is clutching her armless shoulder, trying to stop the shaking.

Her breathing is calm but shallow.

Her eyes are looking emptily at the bookcase that is a wall for that room.

She does not reply.

Crowley waits another few minutes and then sits next to the demon in bed. A moment of hesitation and he carefully places his hand on her back and starts gently stroking. He gulps when he notices how easily he is able to feel each bone underneath her skin.

"Lucifer... That's me, Crowley. How are you feeling?"

He lightly shakes his head, trying to get rid of the dizzy feeling. He had left the bed too early and is still rather weak.

Lucifer, on the other hand, shudders and a whine escapes her lips when Crowley touches her back.

Instinctively she pulls away, but hurts herself more with her sudden movements and she groans, curling into an even smaller ball. She shivers more, the goosebumps covering her body. She is too tense and small specks of red and silver start to appear on her bandages again.

Aziraphale straightens, prepared to take action.

"I will make some hot water and make a new infusion. Please try to calm her down or she starts bleeding again," with that, he leaves the room to be back as soon as possible.

Crowley nods and stands up to go to the other side of the bed, sitting on the floor and placing his hands on her face.

"Lucifer... sister... breathe with me. In... and out... Look at me. Please."

Finally, she looks at Crowley with her wide green eyes. They are moist, and she is in pain and afraid.

She knows what is going on. She has always been the wittiest out of the four. But her mind is too much of a mess to control anything, to organize her thoughts.

Weakly she utters: "Cold...hurts..."

"Shh shh... Do not cry, my dear." he wipes away the tears that are threatening to fall. "Your brother is here. Everything is going to be fine. May I hug you so you will feel warmer?"

Every word that Crowley speaks to her is kind and gentle, the total opposite of a demon he was on that night. That night when her sister lost her limbs. Because of the fight. Because of him. He offers her a gentle smile.

Lucifer in return tries some of her signature playfulness, but it mostly falls flat thanks to her current state.

"You are...The Serpent. You are cold-blooded."

"That's the sister that I know..."

He strokes his thumb over her cheekbone and slowly guides her against his chest, hugging her gently. He also pulls the blanket more around her to help her feel more of the warmth that he may not be able to give.

Regardless, Lucifer nuzzles into his chest and calms down a little, his familiarity comforting her. She tries to turn her lip corner more upwards, but it hurts too much and she is too much of a mess for attempts. Things are becoming more confusing to her. She looks at Crowley with her quizzical eyes.

"Why...why...can’t I feel my wing? It hurts, but...but I can’t feel the wing. Why?"

"It... it's healing right now. You got injured pretty bad, my dear. This will take time and... you need to be patient and careful with yourself. Promise?"

"I did not ask about this one."

She flaps her only wing once, but it is enough to make her hiss.

"I..." she grits through pain, "I asked about the other one."

The Devil tries to flap another wing too, but it only makes her yelp.

"Oh..."Crowley swallows, looking at the space where her wing should be.

Two wings. She should have two wings, yet there is nothing but an empty space, covered by a thick layer of bandages to stop her from bleeding red and silver.

He hugs her closer and nuzzles his nose into her hair. It smells like her. Jasmine and pine. He had hoped that she knew. He did not want to be the one to tell her.

He ought to tell her.

"There.... is no other. I'm sorry."

She freezes. For a few minutes, she says or does nothing.

Then stoically she comments: "Oh...I see...that went too then...Shame. I loved flying."

She lifts her face from his embrace and proceeds to inspect his, analyzing and clicking her tongue when her only hand slowly comes to touch his cheek.

"It could have been you," suddenly she realises something and slowly her face reflects it.

"It...could...have...been..." looks at Crowley with shock as she finishes her thought, "You."

Her hand retreats from his cheek and she uses it to push herself away from him, groaning throughout.

She looks frantically at her injuries, notices the lack of the leg and the arm, and then looks back at Crowley, imagining him being hurt like that or even worse...

Annihilated.

"Things weren’t supposed to go this far. I was just...I just I..." confessions can be easier to spill under high amounts of exhaustion and stress.

"I was jealous and...and afraid."

She starts trembling again. She feels that she is way too emotional today, but she can’t control it and...honestly...she doesn’t even want to. Lucifer simply has no energy or will for that.

Crowley, who had watched the growing of the anxiety in his sibling, sighs and stands up to close the door and provide them with more privacy.

"Now... There is only two of us here. I'm your brother."

He comes back to her and hugs her again, placing one of his hands in her hair to offer more comfort. He wants to create a safe space for her. He wants her to be able to be honest with him. Not hide behind her devilish persona.

He wants to offer her a moment of trust. Something that seems too hard for both of them.

Regardless, he encourages her: "No need to hold back. You can have your moment. Nobody will see..."

Lucifer, however, has other ideas.

"No, you don’t understand..." tries to squirm out of his touch but at the moment she is quite useless at it.

"Let go of me."

Lucifer tries to push him away but he doesn’t move and her strength is nothing compared to what it used to be. She sighs, closing her eyes, still trembling uncontrollably but she tries to be more relaxed.

There is silence for a few minutes and then she speaks: "I am The Devil. I am the leader of Hell. I own every single demon in it. Including you."

There is a pause. She inhales and then...chuckles painfully.

"Do you know why I fell? Why I really fell?"

The redhead moves away, giving her more space but still leaves his hands to loosely hold her. "No... I do not know. You have never...told me, really"

She opens her eyes and looks at Crowley, with a little smirk gracing her lips that surprisingly appears a little terrifying on her pale disfigured form.

"To prove a point. To break the system," she laughs shallowly before it turns into a cough.

"Ahem...see how well that turned out, eh?"

Satan licks her lips that have been drying for 10 months.

"Maybe it was that initially...But you know me, Crowley...It has really always been about..." her eyes shimmer for a moment with the demonic blaze and her voice lowers considerably, "control."

Then she blinks it away and slumps into herself, breaking the eye contact.

"Control is what I need and want. Control is how I work." She breathes heavily, body struggling to keep up with her. "And you had started to slip from underneath my control. You rebelled and I was not prepared for that. I am not prepared for that. I am not prepared to lose you!"

Lucifer’s wide stressed eyes shoot up to stare into Crowley’s. Her body is shaking violently, making everything hurt even more. Something creeps into her dazed mind. The thousands of years old resentment.

"Everyone takes something from me! All of Heaven and all of Hell think that I owe them something! Well, I don't! That one time in your life you all had a choice! To either think for yourselves or unconditionally obey Her! You all made yours!" She growls. "And now Heaven thinks that they can take another demon from me...that they are inclined to do that...because I made a choice? Because you are their brother too?"

New tears start to form in her eyes.

"My own sister took my divinity, The Great Plan took my son and now Aziraphale wants to take you...Control is all I have left,"throws her eyes to Heaven, "and now She has taken that too! Like She keeps taking everything from me! EVERYTHING!"

With that aggression, she moves so suddenly that she accidentally rolls out of the bed and falls on the side where everything is injured and she screams upon contact. The tears are flowing and blood is starting to soak the bandages again.

Crowley is fast to react and in a blink of an eye, he sits on the floor in front of her and lifts her face with one of his hands.

"Has She now? Are you sure about that?"

The gaze of his serpentine eyes is serious and persistent. He will not let her drown into self-pity. Especially if it has a false basis. At least, some of it is false and he will draw her attention to it.

"You are still the leader of beliefs that we Fell for. That Heaven opposes. You have powerful demons, who are serving you. They obey you. They can't go against you. Even I..." he chuckles. "Heaven won't take me back. I am unforgivable... They won't forgive me for hanging out with the wrong crowd and asking inconvenient questions. Aziraphale knows that I belong to Hell and he doesn't want to take me back. I am not interested in redemption and he knows it. We just want to be together as we are. Without judgement and threat to our lives. That is what we strive towards."

Crowley sighs, holding his hurting sister in his arms and slowly wipes away her tears. He said it to his queen. Voiced his desire to her. It did not bring as much of a relief as he had hoped for. Wrong timing and he knows it.

"Aziraphale took care of you, Lucifer. Please... relax and do not move too much. You're wasting his efforts." He places another hand that is not holding her, gently on her shoulder and tries to heal it a bit, but it takes only a couple of seconds to try and the demon is already panting. He is too weak for that. He needs help.

"Aziraphale! Come here."

Meanwhile, Lucifer whispers through tears and gritted teeth: "You weren’t supposed to be there, Paulo Stella. You weren’t supposed to listen to me back in the day. You were good. She loved you. I never thought that you would...Fall too."

It is all she manages to say before fully sobbing and clutching her shoulder again, but Crowley did not hear her, because quite suddenly Aziraphale enters the room, his face one of alarm.

"What happened? I heard the scream and..." seeing Crowley and Lucifer on the floor is all the answer that he needs.

"Oh...oh no."

He puts the tray with the fresh infusion on the table and moves closer to the pair. He kneels on the ground next to Crowley and gently slips his fingers underneath one of the bandages and lifts it to inspect the wound. Aziraphale swallows and his jaw clenches.

"Fuck."

"I... Angel, I could try healing her again. I just did, but I didn't get very far. Perhaps if I focus enough, I could help her," Crowley looks at Aziraphale for a response that doesn't come.

"Opinions, please," the demon demands a little sharply. He cannot make himself sit idly while his sister is suffering. He has always been the one for the action.

Aziraphale regards the frustrated demon and his form before answering: "I...I don’t believe you are strong enough. Think, Aziraphale..." the angel looks around the room, seeking for an answer until his eyes land on his infusion. A tilt of his head.

"Maybe..."

He stands up and brings the infusion between them. It does not look very pleasant. Crowley scrunches his nose. It does not smell pleasant either.

Aziraphale explains: "This infusion has divinity in it. It helped before with a lesser amount, but the wounds are worse now. I accidentally made it stronger when I heard the scream, which at the moment can actually be a preferred outcome, but there is another problem. She is The Devil. Occult. I don’t want to set her on holy fire, which could potentially happen. So..." he looks at Crowley, "I need a buffer. Something demonic into this."

"It looks... horrible. I can try doing something. Something..."

The demon makes a face while looking at the infusion that becomes more disgusting to him with each passing second. Then he breathes out and a blade appears in his hand. Small yet incredibly sharp.

"We could try using my blood. Blood magic has turned out to be rather efficient before. If one knows what they are doing. I hope this thing will work."

He makes a small cut in his palm and lets his blood drip into the infusion. This is his demonic blood. All black. When he deems that there is enough of it, he slowly moves his hand away and lets Aziraphale miracle the small cut sealed. He needs to save his energy because he just got an idea.

"I have an idea. While you're gonna use this..." another scrunch of displeasure, ”THING on her I will try to heal her a bit. As long as I can. Nothing bad will happen to me. I may just... pass out at some point. Hope it doesn't go that far,” he chuckles. "You know what humans say: 'Teamwork makes the...'"

For far too long Crowley searches for the appropriate ending to this phrase. In the end, he just makes a dismissive hand movement.

"Well, anyway it makes something work. I will hold her, so she wouldn't move too much. "

He comes closer to Lucifer and hugs her, telling her calming words and trying to wipe away her tears. Then he slowly places his hands on her injuries on her hip and shoulder. The familiar sensation of heat and tingling enters his body and he smiles. Still got it. Wasn't only the result of distress and adrenaline. Although distress is knocking rather insistently on his door.

A couple of minutes later, Crowley is still healing her, but now resting his forehead against Lucifer's good shoulder. His breathing is abnormally slow and sometimes he gasps for a gush of air, but otherwise tries to be as quiet as he can be, focusing on his task. His head is screaming in agony, but he can feel his sister relaxing more against him the more he heals and somehow it gives him extra strength that he so desperately needs.

"Aziraphale... I don't think I am able to continue..." The demon smiles weakly and stops healing Lucifer. He had reached his limit. He places a quick kiss on her temple and rests his head against the wall while trying to remain conscious. Hazily peaking at the infusion, he has a gut feeling that worst is yet to come and he adjusts Lucifer more comfortably in his hold.

Aziraphale’s eyes are full of adoration.

"Dearest..." he comes closer with the infusion and settles it on the floor, then brushes a lock of Crowley’s hair from his face and smiles tenderly, "you are magnificent."

A pair of green eyes observe him through her golden hair and her brother’s embrace. Oh, the pain is very much there, but Crowley’s efforts have helped that much that she is able to think. Get her thoughts in order. At least a little.

Aziraphale turns to the infusion and speaks to Lucifer: "Alright...this will most likely burn. Please try to hold still. Please."

Her reply is more coherent than previously and they could swear that there was an attempt at a grin.

"We are both Fallen. I think I can handle a little burn."

She shifts herself better in Crowley’s embrace and hides her face in his shoulder, letting Aziraphale do what must be done.

Aziraphale brushes the hair away from her shoulder and back to allow him access. He begins to unwrap the bandages but before he does that he turns to Crowley.

"You don’t have to look. These are quite...gruesome."

"I think I have seen worse, angel," he chuckles and gently strokes Lucifer's hair. "Do your job now."

Aziraphale carefully unwraps the bloody bandages, revealing a harsh reality.

The wounds look horrendous against her pale skin and sickly figure. Crowley's healing has done some good to them, but still not quite enough.

The angel puts on a pair of medical gloves and soaks a clean piece of cloth in the infusion. It sizzles and looks as if it would melt in his hands.

Then cautiously he places the cloth on a harsh wound that was left behind by her lost arm.

A loud yelp escapes her mouth and the nails of her hand dig deeply into Crowley’s shoulder.

The skin underneath the cloth sizzles and pulses, merging together thanks to the mix of the demonic and the divine.

She hisses, hiding her face even deeper in her brother’s shoulder.

Aziraphale, as gently as he can, swabs the wound, letting the infusion do its job.

After he is done, he lifts the cloth and the wound looks better than it ever has before.

Aziraphale smiles to Crowley in hope.

Then he finds her hip and puts the cloth on there too.

Her lip starts bleeding for she has bitten it hard in pain. It burns, it really burns. She feels every ounce of it, her skin boils and it brings back...brings back memories.

Aziraphale finishes with her hip wound but hesitates with her back.

Wings are one of the most sensitive body parts for both the angels and demons. Injuries there hurt the most. Especially when they are close to a joint.

This wound looks as if someone had torn the wing out. It should not have looked like this. By logic, it is supposed to be a clean cut. It doesn't make any sense.

Aziraphale inhales, takes a new cloth, soaks it and then...

"I am sorry."

He puts it on her wound and she screams.

She screams on top of her lungs and her eyes widen and she is not here anymore.

She sees other things.

Fire. War. Thousands. No. Millions of angels. Falling. Loveless.

Michael with her sword. The Great Archangel. Protecting Heaven from her. The Great Dragon. The Rebel. Ripped from her halo. Ripped from Her love.

Falling falling falling.

Defying defying defying.

Burning...burning...burning.

Boiling.

Crowley hisses when her nails dig deeper into his skin through his clothing, but still, he hugs her closer to himself. He hears her scream and then there is a strange jolt in her. He looks down at her and notices her distant gaze. She knows that she is gone from this reality deep into her memories. The worst ones.

"Hey... Focus on me."

He cups her cheek with one of his hands and forces her to look him in the eye.

"Lucifer. You're here with me. You are being healed. You are not burning or boiling... You're not Falling. "

He peeks at Aziraphale, then brings his eyes back to her when he presses his forehead against hers.

"Lucifer..."

She hears a scream among millions.

_No. It can’t be. Why is he here? He was a good angel. What did he do? He was just asking some questions. Adequate questions. No. No. No._

_Not Raphael._

She whispers, memories still flashing before her eyes: "Raphael..."

Meanwhile, Aziraphale tries to heal the wound, but this holy infection is much more resistant than the previous ones. It gets better but the core is still as horrendous as before. He looks at Crowley, their eyes meeting and he mouths apologies.

He gets frustrated with himself and feels sorrow for the demons.

_Why for once can’t I be a competent angel?_ \- he asks himself.

He looks at the core and the cloth. He breathes in again and then presses the infusion soaked material into the wound. Deeper. Much deeper.

  
  


Lucifer’s agony flashes through their minds, paralyzing all their senses for a couple of seconds.

Then she becomes completely limp and stops breathing.

Crowley flinches when hears his real name and then the next second all he can experience is her pain. It is so intense that breath gets caught in his throat.

"Shit," the demon curses and groans, still feeling the remains of Lucifer's agony in his body. Still feeling the painful cloud in his head. He looks at Lucifer in his arms when the pain subsides and there is worry written all over his face.

"Aziraphale... she's not breathing. She's not..."

The serpentine eyes switch frantically between the angel and the demon in his arms. Panic is growing.

Aziraphale blinks rapidly, trying to recover from the wave and get his eyesight back.

When he is finally able to make out Crowley’s face he is attacked by his panic and that does not help at all.

He looks at the limp figure and starts getting worried himself.

"It shouldn't be...it shouldn't be fatal. She can't be...she can't..."

He takes one of his gloves off and tries to find her pulse. He doesn’t. His fingers retreat.

He mutters quietly: "Perhaps...perhaps she is just passed out? We do not need to breathe. Technically. She could be unconscious, saving her energy and trying to find relief from pain."

The angel's voice gets more panicky: "The dose can’t be fatal. It can’t be. She can’t be dead. "

Now he laughs nervously, starting to doubt his own words.

"She is The Devil. She can’t just...she can’t just..." He looks at Crowley. Very slowly. "Die."

"That's what I'm talking about... She can't die so easily. Right?"

Crowley hugs Lucifer closer and closes his eyes, trying to find at least some kind of contact with her. Anything really.

"Come on..." he growls, trying to reach out for her.

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Aziraphale stares at Crowley, not knowing how to help. He senses the upcoming hopelessness.

His hand still rests on her wound with the cloth, as if completely forgotten by the world.

Slowly Crowley lifts his head and rests it against the wall. He doesn't open his eyes, still trying to find her soul. Any sign. Even a speck. Prima Luce. His head still aches but he does not care, not at all and he continues to search for her.

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Empty.

He opens his eyes and makes eye contact with Aziraphale.

"I can't feel her. In any way but this body."

For a second there is a frustrated growl, but then suddenly he relaxes and looks at her.

"She... left."

Aziraphale's hand drops from the wound and he removes his other glove too. He breathes a couple of times, letting the knowledge sink in.

Then he scoots over and sits next to Crowley, placing his hand on the demon’ shoulder.

He starts to say something but stops.

He instead grabs for a blanket and covers her body with it.

He thought she looked cold.

"She... left. She left us while being in my arms. She died... in my arms."

Crowley takes a deep breath. Then he stands up and lays her back on the bed, giving her hair a gentle stroke and a kiss on her forehead.

He stands like that for a couple of minutes and then goes towards the door. Before exiting the room he looks at her figure in a sunlit room. She looks...

He does not finish his thought and instead leaves the room, closing the door behind him.

Three steps are all that he is able to take.

"Lucifer..."

It hits him. Hard and all-consumingly.

He stops in the middle of his path and slides down against the wall, pressing his hand against his mouth in a poor attempt to hold back his sobs. His grief. He can feel how blessedly heavy his chest is, how tears are burning in his eyes. Not making them wet, but burning them out. Like his soul is burning in the flames of agony.

"Aziraphale...Be with me, please... I beg you..." the demon chokes out and presses his hand harder against his mouth, trying to block any ugly sounds that could leave him. Hot tears are running down his cheeks and something... oh something is eating him inside, burning, killing...

"Fuck..."


	4. There Is Always A Last Minute Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reality comes always a few seconds late, but once it arrives...even the Fallen shall fall again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter four is finally here!
> 
> I apologize for the delay, but I wasn’t feeling well enough to do the final editing before the posting. 
> 
> But now the new chapter is here and I have every intention to complete this story.
> 
> I hope you are all doing well!

* * *

  
Aziraphale comes slowly, holding a blanket in his arms.

It fell from her shoulders. He had wanted to put it back on her, but Crowley’s chokes called for him before he managed to do that.

He is powerless against the demon's desperation.

Crowley's utter devastation is heartbreaking.

The angel's eyes well up.

"My dearest Crowley..."

He sits beside him, putting the blanket away.

Strong arms wrap around the demon and pull him to the angel's chest. Aziraphale rests his face in Crowley’s hair after kissing the demon’s forehead.

He starts rocking him gently.

The tears are flowing.

He doesn’t say anything.

What for?

It doesn’t matter.

Not now.

Crowley chokes on his tears and curls more into himself. This pain...this inner death is killing him. Everything hurts as if someone was breaking all his bones. Breathing is impossible.

"If only I was Raphael... I could have saved her..." he tries to take calm breaths, tries to speak without suffocating but the only thing that his attempts accomplish is the escalation of his sobbing. "My dear sister... Why..."

_~~~  
_

_“No! This is ridiculous. You can go. I won’t.”_

_”Oh, Crowley, don’t be such a killjoy. It will be fun!”_

_“I doubt it.”_

_”You don’t have much of a choice.”_

_”Lucifer, what are you doing?”_

_His elegant hand grabs Crowley’s as he makes his way up to a stage at the bar where they have been staying at.  
  
Everybody have been staring at them this whole time. Well, they have mostly stared at him. How can Crowley fault them? Lucifer Morningstar is an enchantment to everybody.   
  
_

_There are very few who can resist his youthful charm; the flirt that is in his every smile; the elegance of his movements; the bounce of his blonde hair, but most importantly..._

_Nobody has managed to resist the temptation and spell of his bright green eyes._

_Not even Crowley and the demon lets The Devil to pull him up on the stage._

_”Trust me, brother. You will have fun as well.”_

_He looks deep in the serpentine eyes and smiles with brightness and enthusiasm. With the flare of a star._

_The Morningstar._

_The tempo is high and the song pumps up everybody in the room._

_Lucifer jams on the stage and Crowley gives in._

_He cannot resist. It is infectious: the song, the jazz, the people._

_They enjoy it. Music enjoys it._

_His brother enjoys it._

_The blond’s hips are loose; he snaps his fingers and his vocals are perfect for this Italian cover._

_But most importantly..._

_What Crowley sees is not The Devil seducing the crowd._

_It is Lucifer having a good time._

_It is Lucifer who nudges Crowley’s shoulder and encourages him to sing and dance._

_And Crowley does, deciding to be not a demon of temptation but a being who is performing and having fun with his older brother._

_Lucifer was right._

_Crowley indeed had fun that night._

And if Lucifer would ask him again, he wouldn’t refuse.

He would give all he could to have her ask him again.

  
Anything.

Anything at all.

_~~~_

  
Aziraphale hugs the grieving demon tighter.

"You did all you could. She was fierce, but the damage was too much. Even our eternal bodies have limits. They can’t suffer endlessly. I am sorry. I really am. I should have been a better angel. Forgive me. Cry. Yell. Do whatever you must."

The angel strokes the ginger hair and rests his cheek on top of it.

The blanket can be made out even through tears. Aziraphale looks at it. The more he looks at it the more he sees something.

Or rather...

In this case...

The lack of something that should be there.

At some point it hits him and he freezes completely.

"My sister..."

Gently Crowley pushes the angel away and throws his head back, pressing himself against the wall and gasps for air that refuses to enter his lungs.

She had called him Raphael. His former name. The name of a healer and creator of stars. She had created stars too. The Morningstar. The brightest one in the sky.

Despite everything. Despite their worst fights and disagreements...They had always been there for each other, subtly offering support to each other. Lucifer had got him out of trouble on more occasions than he can count.

After the Fall they had no one but each other.

And now she is dead.

Because of...

Before he finishes his thought, a thought that would be his ultimate demise, Crowley notices through his tears Aziraphale in a strange kind of state. The demon sniffles, trying to brush away his tears: "What...is it?"

Aziraphale takes the blanket and inspects it from every angle, searching for something. When he is done he slowly lowers it onto his lap. He frowns when he mumbles, half to himself, half to Crowley.

"There should be blood...the wound... it bled...it was horrific...the blanket should have blood on it...it was against her back....there should be blood..." Aziraphale lifts his gaze and looks into Crowley’s eyes with honest bewilderment, "but there is not."

"What does it mean?"

The ginger looks at the blanket in the angel's hands, not quite getting it yet.

"What..."

"It means that the wound could have healed, which means that infusion might have helped, which means that she..."

Their eye contact is intense and Aziraphale knows that Crowley has come to the same conclusion.

"... she's could be alive..." Crowley gasps as his eyes go wide and he is already on his legs, ready to run back to the room. Only trouble is that he loses his balance and slumps against the wall and then falls on his knees, groaning: "Shit... I'm fine. Used my powers too much."

He slowly stands up again, using the wall as his support.

Aziraphale also stands, but he is much smoother at it and in an instant, he is by Crowley’s side, offering him his arm.

"Please, let me," he smiles gently, the Sun behind him creating a halo around his head.

"Thank you," the demon smiles in return and accepts the offered arm.

They halt before the door. Aziraphale throws a sideways glance at Crowley, trying to read his face.

He bites the insides of his cheek and turns away, staring at the wooden texture.

He cheats.

He prays again.

Prays that it would not be a false alarm. That she is indeed alive. That the siblings would not have to suffer anymore. That Crowley would not have to be tortured most cruelly.

_Please..._

He breathes in and carefully pushes the door handle down.

The door falls open.

They stare.

Neither of them dares to enter.

She still lays there.

Motionless.

Still not breathing.

But...

Is it the light or is there more colour on her face?

Crowle lets go of the angel's hand and moves towards Lucifer. Gently he touches her cheek.

Hope. That blessedly naive hope that grows in his heart.

"Wake up, Lucifer. Please."

_Ask me again to sing with you._

He sits on the bed and starts to stroke her hair, placing each lock in its perfect place.

_I will dance with you. Just ask me._

Aziraphale stays behind, letting them have a little bit of privacy. He is clasping his hands, praying.

_Please, sister._

Minutes pass.

Nothing.

Still nothing.

The tiniest flutter of an eyelash.

And then...

The world’s most quiet...

"Hmm?"

Crowley laughs through his tears and presses his forehead against her good shoulder, relishing in the movement of her body.

"My dear Lucifer... You're alive."

He lifts his head to look at her very tired but alive face and smiles. He places his hand on her cheek and gently strokes it when he blinks away his tears.

"You scared your brother."

She hums because that is all she has energy for and a shadow of a smile touches her lips.

She opens her eyes slowly, squinting because of the light.

Lucifer sees Crowley and manages to give him a proper smile.

Her very raspy voice speaks: "Paulo Stella...your tears bring out your adorable freckles...it is really undemonic, you know."

"Shut up," Crowley laughs and ruffles her hair with playful tenderness, "Get some rest. You need it."

Then he looks behind his back at Aziraphale and gives him a genuine smile of pure gratitude.

"Thank you, love. Thank you a thousand times."

"I am glad, my dearest," Aziraphale smiles as brightly as he can. So brightly that it might even compete with the Sun.

Talking about the Sun, it has become rather blinding to Aziraphale. It makes him dizzy. His head is spinning; an incredible weight pulls down his every limb. He tries to grab for the wall, but his body does not cooperate.

The knees give out and he falls into a bright darkness.

Thump.

Lucifer looks at the collapsed angel.

"Poor angel...we were too much of a handful for him.Although, I thought that the younger generation had a higher endurance." She turns to Crowley and smiles encouragingly. "Take care of him. Tell him that I...that he has my gratitude. And, Crowley...Please come back. I want to talk with you. Please."

  
  


"Let's have a talk when you're feeling much better. But right now... try to sleep."

He places a kiss on her forehead, giving her cheekbone the final stroke.

"Sweet dreams."

He stands up and goes towards Aziraphale, lifting him gently and carrying him to the other bedroom.

Lucifer squints at Crowley playfully and lets him take his angel away to a well-deserved rest. She smiles and closes her eyes, still relishing in the affection.

  
  


He places the angel on his bed and takes off his shoes. The waistcoat and bowtie are also easily removed, giving Aziraphale more comfort in his sleep.

Crowley grabs for a blanket and covers him with it, smiling fondly at the sight. Then he joins Aziraphale on the bed, hugging him with one hand and placing his head on his shoulder.

"Rest, my angel. You did great," he whispers and before he manages to contemplate over his own thoughts and feelings,the darkness steals him from consciousness. The last thing he senses is the calming smell of cocoa and old books. His angel's scent.

Lucifer will never tell that to anybody but she loves affectionate gestures. It makes things softer and in the world where difficulties and suffering and pain are so common, it is a welcome change.

Lucifer suspects that Crowley knows this and that makes her appreciate him even more.

Her body still aches but it is more tolerable than anything she had previously experienced.

After her flashbacks, she just ceased to be.

At least that is what she thinks happened. She only recalls Crowley’s voice and the gentle touch on her cheek that woke her. Nothing else after the pain and before the awakening.

She inhales deeply, taking in the scent of old books and ancient wood. She feels the warmth of the Sun on her skin. She is drowsy, ready to slip away into this comfortableness.

Then something stands in her way into slumber.

A presence in the room.

A presence she has missed for over a hundred years.

The voice is still as charming as she remembers:" How come you, my darling, always end up in some kind of trouble?"

She smiles.

"How come you are always late to the party?"

She opens her eyes and looks at him. He is sitting in the corner, his chin resting on his gloved hand, looking at her curiously with his yellow eyes, decorated with red irises, one cornea being smaller than the other.

He is very slender and his figure is illustrated with an old-fashioned chestnut corduroy-type velvet suit.

He does not wear his fedora, which she thinks is a shame, but then again the lack of it reveals his greyish-black hair that manages to be both slick and dishevelled at the same time. His face is ageless, narrow and sharp. Not too handsome but somehow very attractive.

He is neither an angel or a demon. He is a chaotic being all on his own and Lucifer has missed him.

He shakes his head in a mild annoyance and leaps onto his feet. Then a grin appears and he strolls to her bedside, towering over her.

He states, leaning closer to her: "I am not late. Mostly. Besides, I have other businesses to attend to. Hell, Heaven and Earth are not all that exist, you know. They are not all that need a little bit of..."He shifts his eyes sideways and then returns them slowly, his grin getting a more flirtatious undertone."Chaos."

She rolls her eyes before his lips touch hers. It is brief but desired enough for her to hum. A greeting from him.

He pulls away, licking his lips and frowning in surprise.

"I don’t remember them being so..." waves with his hand, searching for an accurate description, "dry and...bloody."

"Well, as you can see, I am not..."

She is interrupted by his boney finger running on her lips. With a gentle passing movement, she feels how her lips are becoming smooth again and how the taste of blood disappears.

He takes his touch back and looks pleased with the result.

"Much better...you were saying?"

She sighs: "I was going to say, before you so rudely interrupted me, that I am not in my best shape. So don’t complain too much."

"I am not complaining. Merely stating the facts. And no you don’t look your best, but knowing you, you will soon be back in the game."

He laughs, sitting care-freely on the floor, not letting himself get bothered by her exposed injuries.

At least it is the look he goes for.

Lucifer knows him well enough to be able to read his micro-expressions. She sees a quick glance at her shoulder and hip, the smoothest swallow and the tiniest flinch.

"Why did you come?" she asks.

He thinks for a second, then throws his head back and looks at her upside down.

"I was in the area, doing my thing, and then I sensed a devilish energy from the most infamous bookshop in Soho. Broke in and here you are," he grins.

"Oh, just admit it...you were bored again."

He flips his head back.

"I am always bored. That doesn’t say much."

She smirks.

"But you always come to me for fun. You always come to me when you are feeling..." clicks her tongue, "lonely."

He huffs and climbs closer to her face.

"I can find company easily."

"Yet you always come to me. Running out of choices?"

Their noses are now touching when he purrs: "I wouldn’t say that...maybe you are just my first choice. And besides, perhaps it is you who is lonely...not me. Hmm?"

Lucifer laughs, but it hurts and she retreats back to grinning.

"I am not lonely. My brother and his angel are in the next room. I have company if I so desire. Speaking of them..." she flutters her eyelashes and sweetens her tone into honey, "could you do something on my behalf? I am a bit disabled."

He pulls back and crosses his arms in front of him.

"I am not your servant, Lucifer."

"Oh, I know that, but you fancy me enough to do it anyway."

She throws him one of her seductive looks.

He sighs and grumbles in playful annoyance.

"I suppose...What do you want then, darling?"

Lucifer is smug. Her brother might be The Tempter, but she is The Seductress. Good at manipulation and wrapping people around her little finger. She is The Devil.

"I think my brother and his beloved angel deserve a little gift. They have put up with me for quite awhile and since he has been a rather competent demon lately, I want to treat them. To show my appreciation. You should always respect a good worker."

He stares at her and then bursts out laughing.

"That’s it? You want to treat your brother and his boyfriend? For good work? Lucifer, what has happened to you? When did you become so soft? "

She rolls her eyes.

"Oh, you think you are blameless? " Her voice becomes low. "I know you and you have your own..." eyes him over, stressing the last word, "weaknesses. I have mine and you have yours. It would be foolish not to recognize them. " She grins when she sees his face. "Don’t look so upset...You know that I can keep secrets. Including yours."

His frown turns into an equally flirtatious smirk.

"I love secrets. Always so scandalous and their reveal can create glorious," his eyes light up and the room darkens for a second as he hisses, "chaossss."

"Alright, and what is this, " he makes air quotations, " 'gift' you want me to make?"

She thinks for a second.

"Something pleasant when they wake up. Not your chaotic pleasant. Earthly pleasant. I know they fancy dinners. Or rather Crowley fancies Aziraphale who fancies food."

Upon noticing his quizzical look, she adds: "I did my research."

He mumbles: "Ruining my fun. Fine."

He snaps his fingers and the most delicious smells start to come from downstairs to the bedroom.

"Done. Is the queen pleased?"

She squints her eyes at him, warning: "None of your tricks. I really want them to have this."

He groans and then nods reluctantly: "Fiiinnnneeee. They have the nicest meal and it’s warm when they wake up, and they will enjoy it. Are you pleased now?"

"I am," she grins before chuckling lightly.

He can’t help but smile himself. He had missed her.

"Well, your brother was right. A good rest can do wonders."

She teases, hiding half-truths: "Are you trying to get rid of me? Planning to abandon me for another century?"

He stands up, closes the door and returns to her, snapping his fingers and having a brand new blanket in his hands.

"Who said I was going anywhere? I just rather liked, " puts the blanket on her, "Crowley’s statement."

She lifts her eyebrow. He shrugs.

"I heard a thing or two."

He then looks into her eyes and she into his. A century...has it really been that long?

She whispers, glancing at his lips: "You can try again."

He smirks, lowering his voice: "Don’t mind if I do..."

He takes her chin between his elegant fingers and kisses her lips once more. It lasts longer, it is more personal. It is not merely a word. It is a conversation. A long desired one. She is indeed his favourite. And he hers.

When his lips leave hers and she opens her eyes, she sees him having taken on his true form. Instead of a human, there is a slender dragon-like beast with a mix of different animal characteristics and body parts. A true depiction of chaos. 

He states: "Now, I really wish to indulge myself with that nap and so should you. You need to be fresh and bright-eyed when you go back to leading the depravity."

"You want to team up with Crowley? Why does everyone insist on my rest?"

He smiles but there is that micro-expression again: seriousness. Well hidden, but there.

"Look at yourself...you need...time off."

"And what role are you going to play in this?"

He smiles more cheekily.

"I am going to be your ultimately charming companion."

The creature climbs onto the bed and lays down beside her in a way that his body creates a protective nest around her. He rests his head next to her cheek, his neck having become a new pillow for her. He is warm and comfortable.

She smiles when she nuzzles against him, being both warmed and protected by the blanket and him.

"See...I told you, you have a weakness, Spirit of Chaos."

He chuckles, his eyelids already half-closed.

"Don’t let the word get around, darling," and with that, he closes his eyes completely and starts purring like a real cat.

The purring is calming and she finally allows herself to submit to her body’s desires. Finally listening to her worried brother. Her limbs become heavy and her eyes close.

She still feels him breathing against her cheek. Breathing in the same rhythm as her. She relishes in it because she knows that he will most likely be gone before any of the occult or ethereal in this household wake up again.

He has always done as he sees fit. And so has she.

That is why they are who they are.

The sleep takes her and for the first time since forever, she indeed has a lovely dream.

And she smiles happily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you were wondering, this is the song that Lucifer and Crowley sang in the flashback [Tu Vuo’ Fa L’Americano](https://youtu.be/x-xxBDzmSfE)
> 
> Also headcanon wise I imagine male!Lucifer to be portrayed by young Jude Law. I think he has the perfect flare for that character.


	5. The Demon Is Good At Tying The Angel’s Bow Tie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale find their dinner, but there maybe eve more demons lurking in the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update is here.
> 
> We are back on our favourite angel and demon. They might just have important things to talk about.
> 
> Also it must be noted that angels and demons are most certainly polyglots.

* * *

  
Something is too bright for him and disturbs his sleep. At the same time, it is warm and there is something very soft pressing against his cheek. If only he could purr...Crowley slowly opens his eyes and looks at Aziraphale. The Sun is setting down, softly touching the angel's face and his white curls. He looks so beautiful in the sunlight. The demon nuzzles against his neck, breathing in the scent that he so adores.

"Wake up, my love."

The demon's hand moves towards the angel's face, stroking his skin. His touches are soft and gentle. The Serpent slides slowly on top of Aziraphale, humming some kind of melody to himself.

"Aziraphale..." he whispers before deciding to change his approach in waking up said angel. Crowley presses a gentle kiss against Aziraphale's forehead. The touch of his lips grace the angel's temple, cheekbone, nose, jawline... and for the very last place...the lips.

"If you won't wake up right now, I will kiss you to death," Crowley threatens.

Aziraphale had begun to hum through his sleep when Crowley’s lips had started to kiss his face.

He is still very keen on his slumber and when Crowley threatens to kiss him to death, he mumbles incoherently: "Wouln...rlly...mnd...tat."

He frowns trying to retreat to his very comfortable and pleasant state of restful unconsciousness. He starts to wake.

No. He does not want to. Too early.

And with a grumble he pulls a blanket over his head, trying to continue where he left off.

"Oh, really? Sorry, but I need you alive, " the demon chuckles and yanks the blanket down, letting fresh air touch Aziraphale's skin."Time to wake up."

The face that looks back at Crowley is the grumpiest the demonhas seen in a long while.

Then Aziraphale starts to truly wake up and the picture in front of his eyes takes clearer outlines.

The evening light has the most loveliest of shades today and it makes everything glow and feel warm.

The golden hour.

Aziraphale looks at Crowley. He really looks at him.

His ginger hair is graced with the soft tones of the setting Sun. The shadows on his cheekbones are smooth, blending well with his skin. His lips are flawless and they have a shine to them.

His eyes are serpentine, like they always have been, but the reflection of the golden hour makes them even more otherworldly than usual. Aziraphale feels how he could drown in them. And he would have.

If it wasn’t for one small detail.

Aziraphale’s eyes widen when for the first time he notices them. He has never registered them before, has never seen them like that.

Dozens of little freckles embroidering his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. The rays of dusk outline them, paint them in gold, making them look as if they were the remains of the stardust.

Aziraphale places his hands gently on Crowley’s cheeks, caressing the freckles and admiring them to the fullest.

"How come I have never noticed...They are astounding! Reminds me of the stars...Is this why they call you Paulo Stella 1?"

The demon nods weakly, nuzzling against the angel's hands with a small smile on his lips

“Yes, that's why they call me like that. It is all about the stars. Small but fierce ones especially. My siblings thought that the nickname would suit me." The following words he mutters under his breath, slightly blushing." Paulo Stella...they made sure that the name would stick after a little mishap I made."

The angel giggles before looking up at him again. For that moment the angle of the Sun is just right and the room is filled with shimmering gold.

Aziraphale’s air is taken away when it all illuminates Crowley.

The sight is mesmerizing and Aziraphale knows that no words can ever describe the being in front of him, but his lips are already whispering and his eyes are full of nothing but wonder and love.

"You are so beautiful..."

"I fail to describe your beauty, angel. There are no words that would do you justice... Mon doux ange 2. Amica mea3".He smiles gently and kisses the angel's wrist. He almost moves away, but his lips remain to touch his wrist. He looks at him and whispers: "Возлюбленный 4."

Aziraphale opens his mouth to say something endearing, but then shakes his head and smiles fondly, pulling Crowley’s face very gently down against his, having their foreheads touch. He gazes into the golden eyes.

The room is silent. Comfortable. Warm.

Home.

Aziraphale lets his senses relax. He takes in the precious moment of peace and love.

Crowley’s eyes are so lovely.

Then one of Aziraphale’s hands escapes into the ginger locks and he starts combing them, his every movement meditative.

He places a soft kiss on each of his cheeks and then finally on the bridge of his nose.

"Worshipped..." he whispers after the final kiss.

"Listen, angel..." Crowley sighs, "Do not blame yourself. Never. Yes, things went out of hand, but please... Let it be. Leave it in the past."

Crowley kisses him deeply on the lips, placing both hands on his soft cheeks.

"I love you. Always will. No matter what might happen, it will remain unchanged."

Aziraphale's first response is to protest, but then he gives in. He does not want to argue: "Alright. If it is what you want....then so be it. But I have my own condition. Please...please...love yourself as much as you love me. More even. No more self-deprecating." He holds out his hand for the deal-making. "Do we have renewed Arrangement, Crowley?"

"Alright, fine. I will... I'll learn how to do that."

The demon takes the angel's hand and places a kiss on his knuckles.

"Yes, we have," he chuckles and kisses his lips again. "You do know that your lips are so sweet that I can't stop kissing them? Hm?”

Aziraphale smiles against the ginger's lips.

"Oh, you think yours are less of a dessert? Think again..." he kisses him back, the other hand that is not in his red hair, coming to his jawline to trace it.

"Yes..." pulls him closer against his lips,"I can taste...de fondant au chocolat. C’est très délicieux 5."

Suddenly Aziraphale halts his action and looks at Crowley in confusion.

"Wait a minute...I can actually taste it. And I..."

The angel pulls away and starts sniffing the air. The smell is everywhere. He turns back to Crowley and his face is the one of shock, eyes wide like carriage wheels.

"Crowley...Did you cook?"

Crowley almost growls in frustration, when Aziraphale stops kissing him. He wants to get back his own personal dessert.

"What are you talking ab... What?"

He too starts sniffing, picking up each individual scent. This is not just de fondant au chocolat. This is a full dinner.

"I did not. I was sleeping by your side."

"Then where does it..." the angel wonders, eyes landing on the doorway, "downstairs."

Aziraphale looks back at Crowley, hinting on his wish to investigate. Crowley picks up on it.

"Yes...we should see. But first..." the demon murmurs before he gives Aziraphale a kiss, biting his lip in the end. "Now we can go."Crowley laughs. He leaves the bed and once he has stood up he offers Aziraphale his hand for the taking.

Aziraphale accepts Crowley’s hand and lets himself get pulled up to sit. He is dizzy for a few moments.

Then he sees his oxfords put neatly in front of the bed, and his waistcoat and bow tie is resting on the chair rail. He smiles. He appreciates when his possessions are taken care of.

He starts to put on his shoes. The shoelaces go with the smallest of difficulty.

Then comes the waistcoat and it is a bit more evident.

His hands are trembling.

He manages to button up the waistcoat and proceeds to put on his bow tie.

He tries.

And he tries.

Aziraphale fumbles with his tie, occasionally looking up at Crowley. The angel's smile gets more and more fake with each failing attempt.

"Hehe...have not had a good rest for... over a year...must be the stress..."His hands are shaking now. He growls to himself and his hands. "Come on...stop...please...I have done it for centuries..." a blush of embarrassment appears on his cheeks"...I...For the love of somebody!"

Crowley comes closer to Aziraphale and takes his hands into his, guiding them away from the bow tie.

"Shh... You're exhausted. Let me help."

Carefully he places Aziraphale's hands on his lap and then proceeds to help him with the tying of the bow tie, fixing it a couple of times and when he is happy with the results he places a tender kiss on his forehead. Gently he wraps his arms around Aziraphale.

"Thank you, Crowley..."

"Perhaps we should stay in bed?"

Aziraphale rests his head on Crowley’s shoulder and closes his eyes. His shaking hands come to hug him in return.

"No...please...just...give me a minute."

He breathes deeply, trying to make his muscles relax. It is quiet, nothing but their beating hearts and the creak of the old wooden floor.

He feels himself relaxing. He is still tired but he does not want to go back to sleep just yet.

And the smells.

They are so appetizing.

He groans a little as he finally realizes how famished he is.

He hasn’t eaten anything for over 10 months. Not that he has to, but it is a deeply rooted habit and passion.

It is missed.

But he is not stupid. He knows that the source needs thorough investigation and he isn’t just going to touch anything random that may have appeared in his bookshop.

But the temptation was there.

Really there.

Final breath and he uses Crowley to stand up.

"Alright. I am ready to investigate the delicacies...I mean the source of...such smells...to keep the bookshop safe... to taste the cuisine..." he waves with his hand, trying to disregard his erratic changes of tones from dreamy to businesslike."You know what I mean."

"Yes, I do." Crowley smiles, gently stroking the angel's cheek." You didn't eat at all during those 10 months. Am I right?" He takes the blond's chin into his hand and makes Aziraphale look at him. "Tell me."

Aziraphale meets his gaze and straightens up to have himself looking more capable and slightly defensive.

"How could I? The bookshop was a mess, I had two unconscious demons, one of them severely injured, the other one beaten up. Oh, and did I mention that one of them is The Devil?

I used every ounce of my energy to keep you both safe, to find treatment for your wounds..." A quick peek at Crowley’s wrists, then his eyes are back on the demon. Aziraphale hopes that he did not notice.

"Wounds that I..." Aziraphale swallows down his guilt, respecting their newest Arrangement. “Anyway...I was busy. And preparing for either Hell or Heaven to show up. They never did, but I wanted to be ready, in case they did." He puts his hand on Crowley’s shoulder and squeezes it a bit.

"Your safety and wellbeing is my highest priority. I will endure as much as necessary to ensure it."

"Angel..."

The demon wants to say something, but stays quiet and looks at his wrists. He tries again.

"But..."

Crowley fails again. Fails to voice his distorted thoughts. He does not blame Aziraphale, he really doesn't, but for some reason, the angel is so hard to convince. The language doesn't want to cooperate either. Yet he tries for the third time.

"I should have woken up earlier. Should have been here to help you. My injuries usually heal rather quickly. Do not look at my scars like that. Please. I'm not scared of you, Aziraphale. I know you didn't intend it to happen. And...to me, that incident does not undo our relationship. I hope it is the same for you too because I love you and I want you by my side. Still do and forever will."

Aziraphale looks at Crowley with eyes full of tenderness. Then he steps closer and fixes Crowley’s collar. His voice is gentle as he speaks: "And I want to be by your side, to walk the path of relationship together. In love till the end of the time."

Then he lifts his gaze from the collar and looks the demon straight in the eye.

"Please don’t apologize. You deserved every bit of that slumber. The things that you went through... you came back and had a fight with your sister and she attacked you, she... she...went into...she abused your mi...it is vile...so very vile and cruel...I know how that..."

His eyes widen and his breath gets caught in his throat. He shudders for a moment violently in terror and repulsion and he takes a step back from the demon.

There is a flashback before the angel's eyes.

Resurfaced from the very depths of his mind.

He had hoped he never had to see that again. To feel it again.

Never for Crowley to learn of this thousands of years old memory.

He suddenly coughs and smiles gently, putting on his cheerful persona. Like nothing had just happened.

Aziraphale continues the conversation: "But I am happy she is doing well. I can see that you care deeply about her and she about you...in her own peculiar way. Now, shall we finally go and see what is this mystery that awaits us?"

Aziraphale chuckles as he claps his hands together in delight. He starts walking towards the door.

Maybe he walks a little fast.

Maybe a little nervously.

Maybe in hopes to escape.

Crowley notices Aziraphale's strange behaviour but thinks it to be associated with the event ten months ago. Aziraphale is clearly stressed, but there is something else hidden. Crowley will find out what it is but he doesn't want to pry. So, he does the next best thing. He gives the angel a bit of space and time with the topic and maybe a subtle hint and supporting gestures. That's what people in relationships usually do, right? At least to Crowley it seems like the right option and he goes with it.

He breathes out and fixes his hair, tucking some strands away from his eyes. He walks past Aziraphale, gently brushing his fingers against the angel's. His voice is soft and encouraging.

"You can tell me things, angel. We can discuss them together if you would like."

Then he goes to the first floor towards the source of the smell. He halts upon the sight.

"What..."

Aziraphale had to swallow at Crowley’s words. The demon knows him too well. Maybe one day he is able to tell him.....tell Crowley his story. The story of the first few weeks of his creation.

He sees the eyes again.

Feels them in his head.

He stops and grabs for the bookshelf. He grips it for support.

_No. It is not happening right now. It is long in the past. Just a memory. Nothing more. Breathe in and out. In and out._

Crowley is already downstairs. Aziraphale needs to catch up or he will come back up and see him like this.

Aziraphale breathes deeply in and pushes the horrid memory back to where it came from.

However, he knows it will be back and that rather soon.

Not now.

He straightens up, fixes his waistcoat and tries to get his mood up with the smells.

It works a little.

A little more.

He reaches downstairs and comes to stand beside Crowley.

He gasps at the sight of food.

And not just any food.

His favourite dishes from French cuisine are being served on a table in the middle of the room. The dish set is beautiful and candles are burning, creating an enchanting atmosphere. Especially now when the Sun has set.

"Bonté divine... 6"

Aziraphale praises the sight as he walks closer and inspects the feast in front of him, his eyes filled with wonder.

"Fondant au chocolat...Oh, no... peppered duck breast with red wine sauce..." the angel moans in desire

His eyes light up even more when he sees a new goodie served.

"Crowley! It is your favourite wine!"

He prepares to grab it, but stops, sensing.

He senses something but he can’t put his finger on it.

"Can you feel it? I can’t quite get the grasp of it..." he points to his find. "There is a label around the bottle. A peculiar one. It has something written on it."

Aziraphale leans closer and squints his eyes to read it. The letters are swarming on the label, shuffling constantly.

"What is this? It is neither demonic or heavenly."At one point the letters form a spiral and Aziraphale is able to read the phrase." 'Most...(un)chaotic...greetings.' What does that even mean?"

The instant he asks his question the label takes off from the bottle, flies up in the air, blows up into confetti with a piece of jolly music accompanying that explosion for a few seconds.

Aziraphale is baffled.

Crowley, on the other hand, knows well from whom it is all from. The signature style is unmistakable.

"The Lord of Chaos...This should be from him. Most of the nonsense and trouble usually are too."

Crowley is calm, taking the bottle into his hand and inspecting it. Nothing seems to be wrong. Nothing evil. Nothing chaotic. Just a regular human drink and food.

"Interesting..." he thinks out loud, trying to understand the motives behind this decency. He has known this creature for thousands of years and he rarely does something without his own slightly dubious agenda. Only one exception pops into Crowley's mind and he smiles.

"I mean... We can enjoy our dinner. Everything seems to be fine. Not poisoned or cursed."

"Lord of Chaos? Where have I...." Aziraphale remembers something from a book he had read a long time ago and opens his mouth in shock, "...as if Discord? The dragon-like spirit of pure chaos and mania? The same one who is claimed to be one of the most unpredictable forces? He is real and he has been in my bookshop?"

"Yep," is Crowley's simple reply.

With the snap of the same demon's fingers, the bottle of wine is opened and he pours it into two glasses. He takes a sip, purses his lips and draws in some air across his tongue...over the wine. After a couple of seconds of swishing the drink in his mouth, he swallows and hums in approval: "Perfect. Just... perfect."

He hands Aziraphale's glass to him with a gentle smile.

"Thank you,"he says before continuing his contemplation. "Why would he be here if chaos is not what he is doing? And why this feast?"

He looks at Crowley for an answer.

Suddenly something moves in the pit of Aziraphale’s mind. He swallows.

“I do not know for sure, but I can guess. You see...he and my sister have been...infatuated with each for nearly over a thousand years now. They have this "dance" so to speak. He appears and disappears. Does as he wants. So, it is hard to tell the exact reason why he does anything... He's unpredictable."

Crowley takes another sip and moves towards one of the chairs.

Then he notices Aziraphale swallow. He can sense the tension building up in the room. As if somebody had solidified the air. The feeling from before is back and the demon asks carefully: "... Aziraphale?"

Aziraphale tries to keep smiling while he is mentally pushing closed the door of the darkest place in his mind. The handle is moving. Persistently. He is pushing harder.

"Everything is fine. "

A quiver.

Aziraphale turns on his heels and sips the wine.

_Stayclosedstayclosedstayclosed_...

He takes a seat, staring at his food.

He feels no appetite anymore.

But he is very keen on looking at the wine sauce. It is the most interesting thing in the universe.

_Revolting_.

He blinks again.

His hands shake almost unnoticeably.

_Stayclosedstayclosedgoawyagoaway..._

_Please..._

Crowley cannot bear this image any longer and stands up and comes next to the angel. He sits down on his knees and takes one of Aziraphale's shaking hands into his.

"Angel...What's wrong?" he asks quietly, trying to read the answer from the other's face.

An apparent forced smile is what looks back at the demon.

"I am fine my dearest..."

Then those eyes again.

Flashing.

Getting in.

Exposing.

Owning.

Controlling.

"NO!" Aziraphale yells and throws his glass across the room, wine spilling everywhere.

He is huffing and shaking. Then he registers Crowley.

"My dearest boy...I...I am so sorry! So sorry. So sorry..." the angel hides his face in his free hand, still shaking slightly.

"Wait... no... Stop saying sorry."

Crowley lets go of his hand and shivers himself as he feels the amount of fear and shame coming from the angel. This was not what the demon had been expecting.

"Hey... Aziraphale. Is it alright if I touch you? What is going on? What are you afraid of?”

As a response, Aziraphale sighs and takes Crowley’s hands back into his. He slides down from the chair to sit in front of him,feeling more comfortable this way. More like equals.

He opens his mouth and then closes it again when nothing comes out. His thumbs start making circles on Crowley’s hands, calming himself with the motion.

He tries again.

"I...just...know what it feels like...to have somebody in your head, tormenting you." He shudders. "Making you do things that you would not want to. I know...I know how it is."

Aziraphale is suddenly repulsed and pulls himself more into himself.

"Oh... I see," Crowley nods slowly, squeezing the angel's hands in his.

"That's..."

Crowley is not able to finish his sentence when a pair of green eyes flash in front of his vision. And then he remembers all the sensations, all this chaos that consumed him. He shivers. There is no air for him to breathe and things start to lose their focus. The demon rests his forehead against the angel's shoulder, squeezing his hands harder. He tries to focus his attention on Aziraphale to keep himself in this reality.

Aziraphale flinches when Crowley’s forehead comes to touch his shoulder. For some reason, it feels intrusive.

Crowley is too close.

He shifts under his touch, wanting to bring a little bit of distance between them, but not enough to break the contact completely.

He feels Crowley’s anxiousness and knows that the demon uses touch as a method of comfort.

Aziraphale wants to comfort him, to make all his worries and sorrows go away. But there is always a limit on things what one can do. So he tells him quietly, putting into words the experience that Crowley is not able to describe.

"They come back. Memories. They always resurface when it is most inconvenient. When you had hoped to never experience them again."

He pauses. Lets it sink in. Stops pushing the door closed.

The memory enters.

It is awful and traumatizing.

It is vile.

So very vile.

He breathes sharply. His head starts to ache.

He remembers Crowley. Still here, leaning against him.

Sometimes he misses that. The very beginning of their acquaintanceship. When things were simpler, more carefree. When there was no vulnerability. Intimacy. Ultimate soul exposure.

He squeezes Crowley’s hands back and smiles. Almost unnoticeably. Barely a shadow.

So that is what they have come to?

Is this...

Love?

Love worth everything?

He peeks at Crowley and knows the answer.

And he dares to ask:"Do you want to talk about it?"

* * *

  1. Meaning “Little star” in Latin.
  2. “My sweet angel” in French, the language of love.
  3. “My friend” in Latin, the language of ethereal and occult.
  4. “Beloved” in Russian, the language of passion.
  5. “It is very delicious,” in French.
  6. “Oh, my goodness!” in French.




	6. The Tragedy That Should Not Have Been

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The demons emerge from the darkness, wearing angelic faces, and perhaps the only one who can chase them away from Aziraphale is another demon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter reveals some of the secrets that Aziraphale has been carrying with himself for far too long.
> 
> Some of the tagged warnings apply, so approach prepared.
> 
> It has alleviation and little bit of fun time in between Ineffable Husbands.
> 
> All in all...enjoy!

* * *

  
There is a sharp intake of air and the demon stays silent for a couple of minutes. He seeks for words that could come at least close to describing the turmoil, the pandemonium that Satan created in his head.

"Everything is a mess, thrown about. My senses are all over the place. My vision... So many noises... smells... It smells so bad. Everything makes me sick and it is impossible for me...to understand...what...is...real..."

Crowley's words drift off into silence as he understands how meagre his ability to talk to Aziraphale is about this, how the strings around his throat are pulled tighter and tighter and how his brain refuses to give him anything that resembles words. The only things it feeds him are moving images with a dash of growing anxiety.

Aziraphale notices how the demon against him tenses and stops moving entirely. He feels himself tense too, the only hold to reality being Crowley’s hands in his.

Aziraphale tries to finish what Crowley started, although he feels himself being barely better than the demon at it.

"And they are there...squirming in your most private thoughts...looking for whatever they want to use...and when they find it..." He closes his eyes. "They do whatever they want and you are powerless. There is almost nothing you can do. In that moment...You are most cruelly theirs."

Aziraphale sighs, the memory torturing him more than he lets Crowley know. He feels how all those emotions are coming back with a new wave and he asks before he will not be able to.

Aziraphale needs to know. He approaches the question carefully.

"Has she...Has it happened to you...before that time?"

The answer is a quiet, almost inaudible whisper.

"No... never."

Crowley breathes out sharply through his clenched teeth. The next second a strange distorted laughter escapes from his lips and instantly he presses his hand against his mouth, wanting to shut himself up and hide his shame for this little act of insanity and self-deprecation. He offers his apology with his serpentine eyes that look into Aziraphale’s human greenish-brown.

Aziraphale offers him an understanding look in return and gives the demon's hand a gentle squeeze. The silence falls upon them. It lasts for several minutes. He looks at Crowley again and feels the need to say something.

This conversation can’t end there. Not like this.

He sighs heavily and leans against the leg of the table.

He might as well tell Crowley his story.

It might help.

It might not.

You do not know before you try.

He lets go of Crowley’s hands and folds his own in his lap.

"I...Have I told you when I was created? That I am much younger than you?"

That gets the redhead's attention. Slowly the demon removes the hand from his mouth and his anxiety makes room for his most natural trait: curiosity.

"You haven't. I guess...somehow...we've never had this kind of conversation? Younger...it is strange to think of you in that way."

Crowley allows himself a little note of amusement into his voice. Aziraphale in return chuckles for a millisecond.

"Is it that hard to believe? Do I look that old to you?"

"No...I just have always considered us to be the same age. Yes, I know that I am older than most anybody, but still. We have always strode parallel to each other, so, I guess that's why," Crowley ponders, brushing some of his red hair from his eyes. Then he asks: "How much younger?"

"I never saw the Fall. I did not exist then. I was created sometime after. To be a guardian and a soldier. To protect Heaven from whatever might attack it." He chortles with sharpness. "Which meant mostly from Hell.

Anyway, after two weeks there were rumours about the initiation of God's newest and most peculiar project yet. Everyone was curious to find out who gets to do what.

Especially me..." Flash of nostalgia and another chuckle comes from the angel. "I had lived only for two weeks and already I itched for an assignment. To show them that I can be a great angel and that they all can be proud of me.

That I have a purpose.

Heh. Two weeks and already I was insecure and then..."

Aziraphale stops; his whole body stills and darkness appears on his face.

Gently Crowley places his hand on the angel's shoulder and gives it a supportive squeeze.

"Angel...if it is too hard for you then you don't have to tell me. Really, don't do that to yourself."

"It is hard but...I want to." Aziraphale looks at Crowley in earnest. "Maybe then, finally, I can understand what happened to me or at least move on. But if it is too much for you, then tell me. I...I will manage."

"Oh, no... Tell me. Please. I just don't want you to push yourself too much. Take it easy," Crowley smiles to his angel gently.

Aziraphale tries to smile, but the flashback attacks him. He flinches and inhales sharply. His voice quivers a bit when he continues speaking.

"And then there was an angel.

He was...carved from marble. So pure and white. Very otherworldly. His movements were feather-light, just like a ghost. And his eyes...I can never forget his eyes....they were all white with black specks and the specks roamed and swirled around his irises. I have never seen anything so...so...

Hypnotizing."

Aziraphale sees it all in his mind's eye, his real ones staring into the distance. Crowley is listening to Aziraphale's every word. He wants to know. He needs to know. But something already tells him that this story doesn't have a happy ending and Crowley has never been fond of tragedies.

" His name was Visarel. He started to converse with me, showed interest in my thoughts and doings.

I was delighted. Thus far there was not much for me to do and I was way too inexperienced for anyone to share things with. I had nothing to give.

But he offered me his companionship and I took it.

It was great to learn new things from an older angel. To have somebody to talk to and who would smile.

Visarel smiled at me. A lot. Always with a hint that he knew something that I didn’t.

And I never properly picked up on that. As I never picked up on that the more I was with him, the less I interacted with others. The less I was interested in other things than whatever he was showing.

The more I saw his brilliance and care, the less I actually thought about me. The less I saw me....as someone with a will."

There is a pause. The stage is set before Aziraphale’s eyes. Let the story begin.

"And then after another few weeks, I was given my first proper assignment.

To guard the Eastern Gate of Eden.

And I was ecstatic. I wanted this. The opportunity to be a part of Her project - a marvellous project - I thought.

And I went to tell Visarel. To share my excitement and thank him for his companionship and tell him that I hope he can visit me in the garden and I can show him my progress.

He didn’t say a thing and just smiled in his usual way and then I was called upon and I had to leave to hear the instructions for my task..."

Aziraphale closes his eyes and his breathing becomes shallow. His voice almost breaks.

"I couldn’t.

I couldn’t move. None of my muscles could.

And then it hit me...

I couldn’t because I wasn’t allowed to.

He flew in front of me with that smile of his still plastered across his face.

He reached out with his hands and touched me....only that he didn’t. Not physically. My mind.

And he just..." Aziraphale waves with his hand to illustrate the intrusion, "went there. He stared at me with those eyes...

They saw everything...touched everything...not that there was much, but it was mine...it was supposed to be mine and suddenly it wasn’t.

Visarel took all that he pleased and I couldn’t do a thing about it."

He pulls his knees to his chest and rests his head on them, shoulders shaking.

"And then he went for my divinity and he was prepared to take it. To claim it as his own. To take my place in the garden of Eden.

He would have taken it, he already had a grip around it.

And then Michael and Gabriel came.

Ever wondered why did I put up with them?"

For a moment the angel peeks up at Crowley, only to hide his gaze quickly again.

"They saved me. They saved me from him. They understood instantly and they managed to break the bond.

Michael was furious and Visarel was captured.

Gabriel apologized for being irresponsible and told me he was sorry that he did not take enough care of the younglings such as myself. That’s how he came to offer me to work in his department and I accepted, albeit much later.

Michael and the other angels took Visarel away. And that look he gave to me...the final look..."

Aziraphale's eyes go wide and his hands dig into his white curls, resembling a man at the brink of madness.

"It was the most terrifying look I have ever received.

Visarel never fell. He was executed a few days later.

I never knew that angels' weren't supposed to have the ability to...to...force oneself into other's mi...

He was an anomaly. And he was executed for that."

The angel shakes slightly, all his emotions starting to overwhelm him. He begins to whimper without tears. The tragedy starts to unravel to the single audience who begins to hate this story more and more.

"And I felt guilty for that. That my existence was the direct cause of Visarel’s actions. That if only I hadn’t existed then this all wouldn’t have happened.

I was disgusted with myself because I understood that he had been inside for a while. Before he gave me any orders, he was already there.

And I didn’t notice...

I was supposed to be a guardian and if I couldn’t even protect myself. If I was such an idiot to fall into his web, to have him take away my divinity, my identity...to...to..." he chokes on his words, "desecrate me, then what good am I? Why should I be worth anything? I was abominable. Ultimately abominable. And if it weren’t for you...then I think...that I would still..." he lowers his hands from in front of his face, looking at them as they descend, " see me as nothing more than an abomination."

Aziraphale's hands shake and the more he looks at them, the more he feels. He wants to cry but there are no tears. Instead, he whispers with the sorrow of his soul: "Why am I so impure?"

Crowley's gut had been right. He hated this tragedy, this injustice and cruelty against the one he cares the most about. He had always wanted to protect Aziraphale, to keep him away from the trouble. Nobody had the right to make his angel's life miserable in any way. Nobody.

"And you are telling me to love myself more... Telling me this kind of stuff, when you're... You..." he growls. "You can't even love yourself because of what this sick fucker did to you."

Crowley wants to add something else but stays quiet, taking angel's hands into his. He brings them to his lips, placing soft kisses on his skin.

"You're not impure. You're the purest living being that I have seen in my whole life... I will show you that you should be loved." Crowley smiles, shaking his head. "No... you are already loved. By me. But still...I am going to show you and I will convince you."

Crowley moves closer to Aziraphale, placing his hands on the angel's cheeks. He looks into his eyes and strokes gently his cheekbones, feeling the roundness and structure underneath his thumbs.

"Such beauty. It must be admired and adored. The eyes of that beauty... the face...the body...the intelligence and the heart. You're something very special. Someone who I am immensely proud of and who I..."

The demon's lips are almost touching the angel's. He gives him a gentle peck on the lips while the hands continue to stroke his cheekbones and the jawline. The next kiss lasts a bit longer and is a bit deeper. Demon attempts a quiet purr when he pulls away, the angel's lower lip between his teeth.

"Let me show you... that you deserve to be loved just as you are," Crowley whispers.

Aziraphale wants to push him away, to protest against his words, but his heart won’t let him.

His heart wants to bring him closer and closer. He wants that love. Aziraphale wants to be loved by Crowley so much that it hurts.

Aziraphale’s hands come to rest on top of Crowley’s that are still gently touching his face.

The angel pleads from the depths of his soul: "Please....love me. Love me, Crowley."

"I will love you. I will worship you. My angel..."

Crowley chuckles, placing a quick kiss on the angel's lips while his hands slowly move towards the other's waistcoat, starting to open the buttons.

The demon's mouth attacks the angel's neck. Kissing. Biting. Licking. Sweet words escape from his lips. He presses himself against Aziraphale, gently moving his nose against the skin on his neck and breathing in his scent.

"Here or bedroom?" Crowley whispers.

Aziraphale unties his bow tie and puts it away. He also opens the first few buttons on his shirt, pulling away the collar to allow Crowley better access.

He looks away, exposing his neck. He sees the main room of the bookshop. All the shelves, all the relics, manuscripts, books.

So many things have happened here...their countless conversations, thousands of laughs, many laments, their drunken plan to raise the Antichrist was constructed here, here he discorporated...

Here he confessed.

Here Aziraphale had said for the first time out loud to that one demon he had kissed in the night of 1892...

'I love you'

It is only fitting that here they would also love.

He peeks upstairs. She wouldn’t come either.

They are alone here.

In their own place.

He closes his eyes and mumbles quietly: "Here..."

"My love," the demon hums happily and presses his lips against the angel's temple, hands working on his buttons.

Then he slowly moves down to the angel's neck, this time leaving behind a small trail of kisses. Crowley pushes the shirt from the angel's shoulders, exposing a bit of his skin and he smiles upon the sight: "So beautiful..."

Crowley kisses his collarbone, biting it slightly and then licking the small mark that he left there. His hands come to rest between the angel's shoulder blades, right where the wings should be. The demon leaves another small mark on his collarbone and then moves towards Aziraphale's shoulders, murmuring sweet words to his beautiful love.

"There is no-one else like you. You are the one I want. The one I love. The whole world looks upon us with envy, because nobody is as loved and cherished as you."

The demon looks deep into the angel's eyes and kisses him slowly. Profoundly. Letting him know the depths of his love. Crowley's elegant hands are moving towards the angel's trousers.

When he breaks their kiss, the demon stops to appreciate every inch of this angel's face. Every wrinkle and line, every part of that softness and handsomeness. Slowly Crowley brings his eyes to his hands. Maybe that's too much? Maybe he shouldn't do that? Maybe he is pushing the hurting angel's limits with his own desire? Crowley bites his lower lip in worry and looks at Aziraphale, searching for an answer in his eyes.

Aziraphale's eyes are closed and he lets Crowley touch him. He feels his fingers and lips loving him, trying to convince him that he deserves it, that he really is what Crowley claims him to be: beautiful,special, pure...

Loved.

When Crowley’s hands come to rest on his shoulder blades, he shivers. The demon’s touch was really close to his sensitive spot.

He opens his eyes and with that, the quietest sigh of pleasure escapes when Crowley goes for his shoulder.

Then Crowley looks deep into his eyes. Eyes golden and beautiful and then Aziraphale is kissed.

He feels it in his heart. Crowley’s love. Strong and gentle. Vulnerable. Honest.

And Aziraphale knows what he wants to do.

Crowley’s lips leave his and the demon looks at his hands, close to Aziraphale’s trousers.

He knows what Crowley asks him and he will not say no. Aziraphale wants him there. Wants him very much.

But there is another place where he wants him more.

He puts one of his hands on top of Crowley’s and meets his gaze.

"Crowley...I want you to do something for me."

"Yes? What can I do for you?" Crowley gives Aziraphale's hand a gentle squeeze. The nervousness is kicking in as his mouth dries and he has to hold back the desire to constantly lick his lips. He has a feeling that he knows what Aziraphale wants to ask from him and that thought scares him.

Aziraphale himself should be frightened at his thought, should scram from it.

But he feels no fear. He wants it. He wants it to be Crowley and so he smiles a little.

"I want you...I want you in..." he taps his own head with his finger.

There is no response on Crowley's part. Just a pair of wide serpentine eyes that stare straight back. Aziraphale feels like he needs to elaborate this. Perhaps Crowley just doesn't understand.

"I...I realised that the only person who has ever been..." he swallows, smile withering, "in my mind is...him. And he abused me, tortured me, used me. Made me..." there is a sharp inhale of air, "dislike myself. And I don’t want that. I don’t want to live like this."

He brings Crowley’s hands to his chest, placing them directly on his heart that has begun to beat faster.

"I trust you. I want it to be you. If anyone, then you."

Aziraphale trembles, allowing himself to breathe.

He summons all his courage and opens it.

He opens the door. A little, almost completely unobtrusively. It is meant only for Crowley to enter.

The only thing the angel gets is silence.

"Please..." Aziraphale's voice quivers, his eyes shimmering more than before,"do not let it be him...I beg you..." he squeezes Crowley’s hands, getting more desperate with each passing second.

"I don't want it to be him. I don't want his touch...please...I want yours...

I want you.

I trust you.

I love you."

Finally, the demon takes a deep breath, slipping his hand from Aziraphale's hold, placing it on the angel's face. There shines gentleness and determination in his own eyes, trying to take the painful desperation from those beautiful greenish-brown ones.

"I'll do it."

He closes his eyes and carefully reaches out. He keeps himself still for a couple of seconds, letting the angel get used to his presence close to the opening. It reminds him of the time when the angel had almost entered him. In a lonely rainy street in London. And the waltz composed by the angel under his touch. Crowley smiles at the memory. He has the permission. He is here to help not to harm. To love. And then he enters...

It is so different.

Unspeakably different.

When Visarel came, he was sly, ran his fingers on the surfaces, then dug in his nails, scraping cruelly, leaving hideous scars. He pulled out everything, flipped through them and threw them carelessly away.

Aziraphale asked him why. Begged him to stop.

Visarel just sneered and ridiculed him.

_Shame and disgust._

_Disgust and shame._

_“Worthless, useless, pointless._

_That’s what you are._

_If even that._

_Yours should be mine and I will take it._

_Nothing personal._

_It couldn’t be anything personal._

_Yours is just mine.”_

  
That is what Visarel had said.

  
Visarel had left Aziraphale with betrayal.

When Crowley comes, he looks around, careful, sees it all and smiles gently.

Then he comes to one of the scars. He looks at it, analyzes it, constructs the right approach.

The touch is nothing but a breeze. A breeze that comes after thousands of years of lull.

It is so gentle, so filled with love.

His movements are meticulous and knowledgeable...

A flash of something...

Something that he used to be.

Aziraphale sees it...

The memory of Raphael.

Crowley's touch is gentle, filled with love. He tries to take away all the bad that happened to Aziraphale, leaving in the place of violence peace and love. His movement is slow, almost professional...

The work resembles the process of creating stars.

Reminds him of Raphael.

Each movement must be done gently. Slowly. With love.

Just like when taking care of the star that is deformed. Healing it. Giving it a new life. Giving it hope.

A touch here...and there... Fill it all with love. Hug gently. Hum a lullaby.

When he finishes his work with the scar, he takes a step back and lifts his touch, looking at the result.

The scar is still there but it is not so ugly anymore, its edges are softer and it does not hurt as much. Around the scar, there are beautiful little things, moments that are shimmering with love and peace.

Crowley moves away to the next, knowing more how to do, how to be.

He tends to them. Hums to them. Hugs them.

And the scars remain, but there is beauty and love and happiness around them. His work almost hides all of the scars and wounds, but leaves them with a little open space for air, to help them to heal on their own accord.

You should never disrupt nature. Only guide it and offer little help.

Crowley knows that.

Raphael knows that.

The angel of healing and stars.

The miracle of God.

And he loves Aziraphale.

He finishes with healing yet another damage and he turns around, smiling to Aziraphale with all the love in the universe.

And Aziraphale breaks.

In the physical world, Aziraphale falls onto Crowley's lap.

Tears pour out and he cries.

He cries as he has never cried in his whole life.

He never knew that somebody could cry like this.

Tears flow and his voice is drowned by his sobs.

He isn’t capable of speaking.

But he can think and Crowley can hear him.

_'Thank you....thank you......thank you.....'_

Crowley continues taking care of the scars, analysing the damage and then gently touching it... healing.... giving his love.

At some point he opens his eyes, looking at his work and a small smile appears on his lips. He has done enough. It's time to leave.

One gentle hand movement and the angel's mind is filled with peace. Demon smiles to himself and carefully closes the door, whispering quietly: "Thank you for your trust".

And then... just before the door is fully closed he can hear his angel's voice. Thanking him and Crowley's smile widens at relief and happiness in those words. The door closes and the demon is back in the physical world.

He hears Aziraphale crying. He almost panics but then realises that those tears are not from pain or sadness.

"Shh..shhh...do not cry, angel. There is no need to cry."

Crowley hugs Aziraphale close to his chest, his hand slipping into angel's hair to play with his soft blonde curls. He lets him cry. To have his moment.

He can wait. Wait for eternity if Aziraphale should need it. He has always been worth it. The demon places his cheek on the angel's head and closes his eyes, letting a couple of tears escape from them.

"I'm with you, my love."

They do not know how long it lasted. Time was of no importance. It could have been hours since Crowley came from Aziraphale’s mind and has held the weeping angel in his arms.

And then at some point, the tears were all out. There was nothing left to cry.

  
  


Aziraphale is resting in Crowley’s embrace. And he smiles.

He is so light, so relieved. It is like flying for the first time. Frightening but absolutely liberating.

His mind is finally at peace with his experience.

Finally.

After thousands of years.

He is indescribably grateful to the love of his life. He always will be.

Aziraphale has no voice. He can’t articulate any of his thoughts.

Very well then, actions can speak louder than words anyway.

He lifts his head to look at Crowley. He sees a trail of wet on demon’s freckles and without hesitation kisses them.

He only lifts his face from Crowley’s face to see his eyes. He wants to see if the demon is too tired, too drained for...

He takes Crowley’s hands and puts them on his belt buckle, giving him the lead again. Letting him make the choice.

He wants this. Now more than before. He wants to celebrate it, to show him how grateful he is till the very end of the time and beyond that.

He smiles.

The demon slowly opens his eyes and looks at Aziraphale. His eyes follow the movement of the angel's hands and he smiles gently: "Are you sure about that, my love? We can wait."

Aziraphale nods in response to Crowley’s question and then wraps his arms around his neck. He looks at his lips, and with careful smoothness touches his to Crowley’s.

First on the surface and then the touch slips downwards, in between. The pressure becomes harder, deeper, getting the taste. The tongue runs along the lines, tracing before they slither in and surprise the host of the mouth.

He pulls him closer and smirks against Crowley’s lips. He had saved it. It was something he had learnt and made his own.

This kissing technique was at the top of its game and he had saved it just for Crowley.

This approach seems to have a rather decent effect as the demon's hands fail to work properly, leaving them a shaking mess. Crowley presses himself against Aziraphale and moans quietly into the kiss, not expecting this kind of technique from the angel. Although he should already know what he is capable of. When it comes to sex, Aziraphale is anything but an angel, but he can be that too if Crowley asks him to be gentle and kind.

But whatever Aziraphale is, he is always so sinfully divine.

Crowley gives up on his hands' functionality after he snaps his fingers and the angel's trousers are gone. Those hands place themselves on Aziraphale's thighs, stroking them gently and squeezing the softness that this demon so adores.

The kiss is intoxicating, making Crowley drunk and incapable of parting from this delicacy.

_Oh, poor boy...thinking that this is it?_ \- Aziraphale muses in his head.

The demon is terribly wrong.

You see, the humans may have thaught him, but he is an angel. Where human capabilities end, the angel's begin.

Poor Crowley...having no idea what is coming.

His sister will probably hear this, but then again the door and the walls might be thick enough. And she most likely has heard much worse.

The demon growls into the kiss and places one of his hands into Aziraphale's hair. He tugs on the curls with a smile on his face.

The quickest gasp for air, to give Crowley a second and then Aziraphale goes for it.

What is he doing at the moment, is not humanly possible, but it is a child’s play to an ethereal being who has had more than enough reasons to practise.

At the same time, Aziraphale's hands have done masterful work at incredible speed, leaving Crowley shirtless and the hands are already on his hips, going for his trousers too.

"What the h..."

Crowley is incapable of finishing his sentence and moans through his clenched teeth. This is not just a moan. It is a moan of decadent pleasure that Aziraphale knows so well to inflict in him. This kiss is something. It drives him crazy.

This is the real power of Heaven.

This demon doesn’t stand a chance.

And it can be heard loud and clear.

After that, there is a breathy laugh and Crowley presses the angel's forehead against his.

"Don't stop," he whispers.

"Can you handle it?"

The voice is so unexpectedly coarse and deep that it surprises them both. Aziraphale coughs trying to get it sound more normal.

Then he grins wildly, their foreheads touching. He tries speaking again. This time the voice is more him but velvet-like, full of seduction. His hands have undone Crowley’s belt buckle and are running deep inside the trousers, searching for the areas that are very...sensitive.

The angel murmurs: "Can you handle it, my dearest? Can you?"

His lips are very close to Crowley’s, ready to strike.

The demon chuckles: "Why asking ask me such questions, angel? Of course, I can handle it. I am a demon. Or have you forgotten about that? Should I perhaps remind you?"

He takes the angel's chin into his hand, leaving white marks on his skin where his fingers are and grins, showing his teeth. There is a dangerous glow in those yellow eyes. Hungry. He opens his mouth to say something but instead, he moans, shivering under the angel's touch.

Aziraphale starts breathing more heavily, waiting for Crowley to fulfil the promise of those dangerous eyes, but apparently, the angel’s touch is faster and his chest fills with pride and content when Crowley moans and shivers.

"You...evil..." Crowley growls through his teeth that try to keep in more of those sounds that his throat is creating.

The blond lifts his eyebrow arrogantly, his fingers becoming slower, but oh...they attend more deeply, more thoroughly.

The humans would have melted already.

What about this demon?

Aziraphale continues on, wanting to please Crowley in the ways that the demon would not think to be possible.

"You were saying? Evil? Me? I thought that you were the demon out of the two of us." Aziraphale leans closer to purr into his ear. "Hmm?"

Crowley shivers again and swallows down another moan that wanted to escape his mouth. He laughs, looking at him through heavy-lidded eyes.

Suddenly he catches the angel's hands, stopping him from further movement. He moans low, nails digging into angel's skin: "Sometimes... It feels like you're the demon."

He wipes away the sweat that only Aziraphale can make come out of him with his lustful actions, from his forehead and places a kiss on his jawline, then moves up and bites the ear into where he moans yet again.

"Mine."

The next inhale is really slow, Aziraphale trying to suppress his own bodily impulses that the demon has started to awaken in him.

He closes his eyes when Crowley’s teeth sink into his ear, his hand that is held by him, clenching into a fist, trying to not let the chain of events begin or...to be more precise...let his body start reacting.

Not yet.

However, Crowley has made it really hard for Aziraphale to do.

"Yours?...How come I am yours?... You can't just say that and expect me to take it for core value..."

Aziraphale proceeds to lay down on the floor, then he opens his eyes again and stares back at Crowley, provoking with determination in his every word.

"Prove it. Prove it to me that I am yours. You loved my mind. And I can never express my endless gratitude for that. Now..." he hesitates for a second," could you love...my body? Just like you promised me."

Crowley smiles, looking at Aziraphale and gently fixing his own hair and the angel's. The demon removes the last of his clothing and he sits on Aziraphale's hips, gently holding the angel's hands against the floor on each side of his head.

"I'm going to love you. Love your body...love everything about you."

He places a gentle kiss on Aziraphale's jawline and promises, his lips still touching the soft skin: "I'm going to prove that you're mine and only mine."

Crowley's lips begin a journey, moving from Aziraphale's jawline towards his throat... his collarbones... his shoulder... his arm. He stops to look into his angel's eyes with his glowing yellow ones and he gives him a smile. A genuine smile. He brings the angel's hand closer to his lips and kisses the palm.

"Te amo," he tells Aziraphale about his love in their language.

Then he continues with his actions, moving towards the chest...the stomach. He takes one of the angel's legs and places it on his shoulder, pressing a quick kiss on Aziraphale's thigh.

"Should I kiss or... bite?"

Crowley smiles, showing him his teeth that might appear a little sharper than human's are.

The sensation of Crowley’s lips and words intoxicate him, lures him in...Aziraphale groans.

Crowley's approach is so frustrating to him. It's all about promises and teases. Giving a taste of what is to come, building it all up but holding back the incredible payoff a little longer.

Temptation at its finest.

And it drives Aziraphale mad.

Of all the demons in the universe, it had to be Crowley, The Serpent Of Temptation.

He hates it.

He loves it.

A sound has been building up in his throat. It would take one final push to release it. Aziraphale manages to mutter through his teeth, the sound ready to escape: "Whatever you please..."

Crowley smiles and places one quick kiss on his thigh. He pauses, looking into the angel's eyes. The angel's struggle is so clearly written on his precious face. Crowley knows why the other is frustrated. He knows exactly what he is doing. He sighs heavily, giving the thigh a gentle caress with his fingers.

"I'm sick of playing innocent."

The smile on the demon's lips becomes wicked and the next second he sinks his teeth into the flesh, growling.

He presses his angel closer to himself and attacks his neck and collarbones with his teeth. Biting. Scraping sensitive skin. Leaving angry red marks. Those hands teasing and fingers touching oh so sensitive areas.

A loud animalistic laugh escapes from deep inside. This is the real him. The real serpent who charges without a single warning. 

Aziraphale yelps in surprise after being misled by yet another kiss and then...

He loses all the illusion of control.

He throws his head back, his body completely acting on its own accord...

Or on accord with whatever Crowley is doing to him.

Crowley knows what he is doing.

He is better at it than any of the other former partners of Aziraphale.

He is knowledgeable, precise, passionate and demonic.

Over 6000 years worth of experience.

He knows....how does he know so much? Every spot, every place, every inch.

Aziraphale is not able to comprehend this.

Well...at the moment he is not able to comprehend anything.

And it escapes his lips.

Louder and clearer than Crowley had let out before.

He should suppress it but why? Who gives a damn anymore?

Not him.

Crowley nips on the angel's lower lip and laughs, being very pleased with what comes out in between those fine lips.

"I love the noises that are escaping your pretty mouth. Make more of them, my love."

He almost purrs those words to Aziraphale and the angel obliges, giving the demon what he is asking for. Crowley presses himself more into Aziraphale and continues to drown him in his passion.

This angel belongs to him, but Crowley also knows that he himself very much belongs to that magnificent being underneath him and he doesn't mind one bit.


	7. The Obsidian Shouldn’t Hide So Much Beauty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes visitors don’t know a thing about privacy or personal space. But then again perhaps getting steamy in the middle of the bookshop wasn’t the best idea if they wanted that privacy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for updating one day late. I had trouble with posting the new chapter, but here is it now.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

* * *

It is his second climax. He has no idea how they reached it but it doesn’t matter. The first one was unfathomable, this one...he can soon describe it.

Not right now. All he can do is moan and shiver and feel.

Feel...

Worshipped.

For a second he opens his eyes and he sees over Crowley’s shoulder. He doesn’t register much. It’s all a haze. There are the blurry outlines of his bookshop, a figure against a column, Crowley’s beautiful shoulder, albeit full of bite marks.

He closes his eyes again and continues to relish in the sensation and replying to Crowley’s movements.

It is perfe...

_Wait a second!_

He snaps his eyes open and blinks a couple of times to clear his eyesight.

Then he sees him.

A towering slender figure in a chestnut suit, leaning against the column, swirling the wine in his glass. His eyes are red against yellow, mismatched and very amused.

Aziraphale's response is understandable.

"GAH!" and the angel locks all his limbs around Crowley.

The being waves his free hand in dismissal, grinning casually.

"Don’t mind me. I am just passing through."

"What...?" the demon groans when Aziraphale traps him with his body, making him look like a Japanese macaque with a baby attached to its belly. Only this 'baby' is as big as he is and with a much stronger grip.

This sudden change of position and a voice that sounds a tad bit too familiar makes Crowley look over his shoulder and tense up. He knows this trickster all too well.

"What the fuck..." the demon mutters.

Discord chuckles and takes a sip from his wine and nods in agreement with himself.

"Not bad..."

Then he looks at busted Crowley and Aziraphale who are frozen in place.

"Hello, Crowley! Long time, no see."

He walks over to the table and looks at the untouched dinner. His sigh is the one of disapproval.

"I make you all this and you haven’t even touched anything. It is rather rude. After all the effort..." Discord picks up one of the grapes from the fruit bowl and inspects it in between his boney fingers. "Holding back one’s natural instincts is hard." Nonchalantly he throws the grape into his mouth.

"But then again..." the intruder slowly turns his head with a wide grin plastered on it towards the couple. "I think you already know that."

Throughout this Aziraphale is clutching onto Crowley, not letting him move much. Too surprised for any other response. Too exposed.

"I guess you don't know much about privacy? We. Are. Busy. Can't you see?"

The demon chuckles, looking at Discord. Crowley's and this creature's history goes as far back as the creature's history withthe demon's sister. Discord always means a surprise of some kind. Whether it is pleasant or absolutely tedious and sometimes even catastrophic - is up for debate. One thing known is that he is abnormal, prone to wake up some instincts deep inside the ones he approaches. Crowley is no exception and a low growl escapes from Crowley's throat when he makes eye contact with the Lord of Chaos. Something concealed smoulder's behind the being’s mismatched eyes.

Crowley tries to cover Aziraphale with his body. He knows that this action does not solve the problem, but he has no better... And then he has an idea. A rather obvious one really.

He tries to sit up straight but the angel's strong grip just won't budge and keeps him stuck in his current position.

"Angel... dear. Can you let go of me? I can miracle us the clothes that we have discarded somewhere."

He looks around, searching for the said clothes, but finds nothing. An apologetic smile appears on his lips, directed towards the angel. Then he brings his eyes back to Discord and almost growls again but stops himself from doing that. He is not provoking Crowley, so there is no rational reason for the demon to be so animalistically hostile. Yet.

Aziraphale knows that it would be more logical to let go and handle a few more seconds of embarrassment, but for some reason, Crowley feels a much safer and comfortable option.

So, he doesn’t let go. Only holds him tighter, trying to cover Crowley’s modesty as well.

Discord laughs playfully and walks away from the table.

"Oh, I can see it and I heard it. Quite loud. But you shouldn't mind too much. I have already seen all your angel has," Discord comments with a wicked grin on his face and Crowley fails to hold in a sharp hiss and a little bit of a blush on his cheeks.

"Did you know that I have always wondered what the intercourse between an angel and a demon would look like?" Discord tilts his head. "Now I know. Less chaotic than I expected, but fascinating nonetheless. Thank you for the insight!"

And then his attention shifts onto Aziraphale. The red eyes find the greenish-brown ones. He walks towards them, his heels clacking in silence and his eyes not blinking once. He stops a step or two before them and squats down, still towering over both of them due to his height.

"Ahaaaa...So you are the famous angel that got himself The Serpent? Quite a catch, I must say. Cost The Devil an arm and a leg."

He chuckles.

Then suddenly his tone changes into something dark, the grin becomes deprived and the eyes glow. He leans closer. Much closer. He speaks again, but this time very slowly, articulating each letter painstakingly.

"L i t e r a l l y."

His fingers come to touch one of the curls of Aziraphale’s hair, feeling the texture. His voice is ominous and silky like a dreadful night.

"Blond. Very soft and angelic. I can see why you chose him, Crowley."

There is a pause and the intensity of the eye contact between the angel and the Lord of Chaos is growing. Aziraphale wants to pull away from the touch of this creature, but like with letting go of Crowley, he finds himself incapable of doing so. Instead, Discord is the one who lets Aziraphale's hair slip from his fingers.

"He appears strong and divine, but also rather..." Discord runs his eyes over Aziraphale, analyzing all that he sees, before they stop on the angel's eyes again.

"Vulnerable," he lets the word jump off his tongue so casually, but there is something threatening hidden in this simple word. Something malicious in his wicked grin.

Crowley huffs and snaps his fingers and clothes appear on both of them. He hisses a bit as his shirt rubs against angry red marks on his back...Aziraphale had done a good job on him.

"What do you want, Discord? Ruined our... evening."

Somehow Crowley frees himself from the angel's grip and hides him behind his back. He had picked up on Discord's sinisterness and he would be an idiot to piss him off more, but this being had just threatened Aziraphale and he cannot let that slide.

"I was the one who almost...perished, because of her actions. She pushed me away from the pentagram at the very last second and got caught up in the holy light."

"Oh, I know that..." Discord shifts his gaze onto Crowley and his face comes closer. His features get more beast-like and a snake tongue flicks as he hisses, still grinning: "But she had to do that because you were there. And you were there because he was there."

Then he jumps right in front of Crowley, fully transformed. His forehead is touching Crowley’s when his eyes stare into the demon’s. The whole air in the room changes in an instant to accompany the dangerous nature of this creature.

He hisses like a snake: "Tell me...asssss one reptile to another...if ssssomeone hurt ssssomebody very important to you...letsss sssay your angel, Aziraphale,...if it wasss he whossse...arm...and leg...and wing...was torn out...would you not want to have revenge? Want to make them ssssuffer? Want to... dessstroy them?"

Crowley seems to be completely relaxed while the other hisses directly into his face.

He breathes out and makes eye contact with the beast in front of him, the demon's own eyes yellow and equally dangerous.

"Of course I would. I would destroy anybody.Lucifer had a choice. She did not have to push me away." Now Crowley becomes pissed and when he is pissed, he is provoking, tending to play dangerous games that do not always end well and Aziraphale fears this as he looks at the figure who is built from chaos and more powerful than either Crowley or him. The demon doesn't seem to care.

"You want revenge? Want my leg for compensation? My arm? My wing? Come on then. Cut them off! I dare you, " Crowley growls low with a devious smile of his own.

Discord sneers maniacally and in a blink of an eye, he is behind Crowley, pushing him to his knees, holding him down as his talons come to hover over a spot on the demon’s shoulder blade.

"Don't scream too loud then. Would not leave a very dignified impression. And the angel is watching. We would not want to disappoint him, now would we?"

The sharp ends of the talons scrape Crowley’s back very lightly, ready to rip his wing into existence. Ready to rip it away from Crowley.

Suddenly a terrifyingly calm but booming voice comes behind Discord.

"Do. Not. Touch. Him."

Discord turns around, talons still against Crowley. Aziraphale is standing there, straight as a soldier, eyes glowing elektra blue and a shadow of a beast rippling behind. He speaks again: "Let him go, Lord of Chaos! It will be my last warning."

Discord regards him, squinting his eyes. Then an amused smile comes to his lips and he laughs.

The laugh is deep and the whole bookshop rattles along with it.

Then his body wraps partially around Crowley, Discord enhancing his snake-like characteristics. His face comes next to Crowley’s shoulder, continuing their conversation into his ear.

"Nah...I don’t want them."

His paw is on Crowley’s other shoulder, tightening the grip around The Serpent’s body along with it. The end of his tail wraps around one of Crowley’s arms and brings it in front of him. His talons do the same with Crowley’s other hand.

The sleeves fall lower, exposing the scars on his wrists.

Discord runs the back of his talons gently across them, but the message is clear as he murmurs: "I like your scars." He chuckles. "I have no use for your wing or your arm or your leg. But the idea...The idea is always much more valuable than anything physical. And I love this idea. Look at him."

Turning himself and Crowley to look at Aziraphale, he whispers.

"Marvellous, isn’t it? Almost yours. Now...look at the shadow."

There is a pause and the tormenter knows that Crowley sees what he wants him to see.

"This is who he really is. This is what his real touch does to you."

Discord squeezes Crowley’s wrists as he giggles in vicious delight.

"I love the irony! He might control it, he might hide it from you, but one day...one glorious day he might lose his control...and don’t say that it cannot happen... because it has...one day...and the thought that you will burn... in the arms of the one you love the most...having risked everything to protect him...only to be destroyed by his touch..." Discord laughs his horrible laughter that sends a shiver down Crowley's and Aziraphale's spine. "And even more hilarious is the fact that you could very easily do the same thing to him because we both know how angels can burn in the flames of hellfire. Now you just have to see that this ironic idea is worth to me much more than your wing."

Silence befalls the room as no one moves. Aziraphale is ready to lunge into the action and Discord is still holding Crowley tightly in his grasp. The demon himself seems to resemble a rag doll rather than anything else.

Then quite unexpectedly the Lord of Chaos cheers up and pats Crowley on the back.

"Well, it was a pleasure speaking with you, but I must get back to her or she will become grumpy. You know how she is."

He lets go of Crowley and flies upstairs, transforming back into a man when he lands. Then he turns around as if remembering something.

"By the way...your intercourse...would it be considered the great sin or the holy act?" He chuckles. "Your systems are really confusing. That’s why I prefer...chaos."

A cheeky wink and he turns around to enter the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

Aziraphale stares at the door, his mind having gone fully blank in tries to comprehend what had just happened.

Then he remembers Crowley and rushes next to him: "Crowley! Are you alright?"

"I am fine," the demon hisses and stands up, fixing his sleeves to hide his scars.

"He... interrupted us," Crowley growls and then comes closer to Aziraphale to hug him gently. "How are you feeling, angel?”

The redhead smiles, moving his nose across Aziraphale's neck and cheek, placing small kisses here and there.

But it is not right. Not now. The angel can sense that.

"Crowley..."

The lips continue on to touch the soft skin.

"Crowley, stop..." Aziraphale tries to wiggle out from the embrace.

The demon does not stop.

"Crowley, please..."

The nose and lips are still there. The arms might have tightened around him.

"Stop!" Aziraphale puts his hands firmly on Crowley's shoulders and pushes him away. "Don’t be like this! Don’t just pretend you are fine! I know you, Crowley! So, don’t lie to me!"

"I..."

He is about to lie but then stops himself. The angel doesn't deserve his poor attempts at deceit. He already knows that he is lying, so why pretend?

"I am not hurt if that is what you are worrying about. I am just very frustrated. I...uhh...I had hoped that we could finally be together. That after the Apocalypse-that-did-not-happen we would be free from all this Heaven and Hell nonsense." He takes Aziraphale's hands from his shoulders and holds them, thumbs caressing the angelic skin. "That I can finally worship you... love you. And then my sister shows up and all this shit happens!"

Crowley flings his hands in the air in frustration and then he takes several steps away from the angel, turning his back to him and hunches against the column. His sad eyes look into the flame of the candle that flickers with the movement of the air that has now calmed down since the beast has left.

"Why can't we be... alone? On our own side. Without all this...drama. I already had my share with it with the Fall and the Armaggedon. I just want to make you feel good and loved," Crowley quietly laments, acheand sorrow making their way into his small demonic heart. At least into his corporation's heart.

Aziraphale’s features finally soften and he steps closer to him. He stops in front of the sombre demon. He cups Crowley’s face in between his hands and his thumbs come to very gently caress the little stars on the demon’s cheeks. Aziraphale touches their foreheads against each other and nuzzles the tips of their noses together. His words are incredibly tender; his smile is genuine and filled with gratitude.

"Oh, Crowley...but you have made me feel good and loved...you have done it so well..." one single tear falls from the angel's eye, " no one has ever been so kind to me like you...nobody has ever loved me like you...and I thank you for that...from the deepest bottom of my heart...Gratias tibi ago... 1"

Crowley is too weak for this kind of Aziraphale and his finger gently steals away the tear that escaped the angel's eye.

"There is no need to cry..." Crowley whispers and wraps his arms around Aziraphale's waist, hugging him closer.

The shirt's movement against his still raw skin makes a little flirtatious smirk appear on the demon's lips:" I must say that... you're a real kitty. Cannot seem to keep your sharp nails away from me."

Aziraphale chuckles and plants a kiss on Crowley’s cheek. His voice is still soft but a little annoyed. "I still do not fancy that endearment."

The angel hugs the demon back, resting his head on Crowley's shoulder.

"You are warm, my dearest boy. This does not happen to you often."

Then he sees the dinner. Still as warm and fresh and delicious as when they first came down. Aziraphale sighs in reawakened appetite.

"The dinner looks so....scrumptious."

"I think perhaps we should have it then. Would be a shame to let this curtesy go to waste," Crowley murmurs, nuzzling his nose into Aziraphale's curls. "You do know that I love you, right?"

Aziraphale lifts his head to look into Crowley’s eyes. The hue of the candles make them appear more gold than yellow with specks of bronze and copper in them. The angel's gaze lowers and he takes Crowley’s hands into his. Carefully he removes the sleeves from the demon's wrists, exposing his scars. Aziraphale's thumb runs gently along them, tracing and feeling. Then he brings one of the wrists to his lips and with a feather-light touch starts placing kisses. He moves along all of the scars, leaving no spot unkissed, uncherished.

When he finishes with that hand he goes on to another, doing exactly the same thing.

After he is done he looks up again and brings Crowley’s hands onto his beating heart.

"And I love you," Aziraphale confirms.

Crowley's agitation is now completely gone and he hums happily, pulling Aziraphale closer to the dining table again.

"Let's go. I don't want you to be hungry for too long. Who knows...You might otherwise turn into a ferocious beast who devours everything and everyone," Crowley jokes while leading Aziraphale towards his seat.

"You would like that, would you not?" the said angel squints his eyes before sighing at the sight of the duck breast. "My weakness in French cuisine."

He sits down; then notices the lack of a glass and snaps his fingers, creating a new one.

"Would you be a dear and pour me some?"

"Of course, angel."

Crowley pours the angel and himself a glass of wine.

"This wine is... perfect. I missed it," he sighs and brings his chair next to Aziraphale, not wanting to sit too far away from the angel. Besides this side is much warmer than his.

Aziraphale swirls the wine in his glass, letting the aromas come to him. He takes a sip and hums in agreement.

"You are not wrong."

The angel cuts a piece from his duck and brings it up to his mouth but stops before the bite reaches his lips.

"Will you eat or are you just going to watch me as you usually do?"

"I'm going to watch you. As usual. I feel drunk already. This wine is something."

There is yet another happy sigh, which in this demon's case is very rare and that more valuable. The ginger uses the fact that he is not eating to his advantage and presses his nose against the angel's neck, feeling even more of the warmth.

Aziraphale smiles and closes his eyes, finally getting to eat after 10 months. A few seconds pass and a quiet moan of appreciation escapes his throat.

"It is simply div..." he swallows the word with his food, " wonderful. It is wonderful."

The angel takes another bite.

"I had forgotten how..." he grins and wiggles slightly against Crowley, obviously implying, "peckish I can get."

Aziraphale continues to eat and drink, enjoying both the dinner and the company. The candles are spreading warmth and cosy light.

Then a flash of white and Aziraphale throws his eyes to the roof window. A few seconds later a rough sound of thunder and then a heavy drumming against the glass.

He listens to it for a bit and then finishes off the dish. 

Aziraphale cleans the corners of his mouth with the napkin and proceeds to pull the dessert in front of him.

"The storm season has made it to London," he states and as to confirm his words Mother Nature sends them another lightning to be witnessed behind the window.

Suddenly Aziraphale fidgets in his seat and mutters:" This won’t do anymore."

He stands up, pulling Crowley gently along with him. He snaps his fingers and the chair transforms into a wide and comfortable couch. It must be noted that this is not the one that is in his backroom. It is a freshly miracled combination of the previous two separate chairs.

Aziraphale removes his oxfords, takes his dessert plate and sits down on the couch, crossing his legs underneath him.

The angel hums with a smile on his face: "Much better. Please, sit, my dearest boy. And pour more wine.

The demon does as he is told and sits next to Aziraphale, snuggling close to him, but still leaves some space to let the angel have his dessert.

"How was the duck? As I understood... you enjoyed it," Crowley inquires with a pleased smile of his own as he sips on his wine.

"Mhm," is Aziraphale's simple reply. He is too focused on cutting the fondant au chocolat. The melted chocolate flows out of it, still steaming, mixing with the vanilla ice cream and cherry jam. He shoves the plate under Crowley’s nose, excitedly demonstrating the dish.

"This...this is how you make it perfect. See? The texture and temperature...they are just right. And the ice cream balances out the hot and the cold and the cherry jam compliments the sweetness. It’s all about the balance."

"Yeah...I see."

Aziraphale takes a scoop and brings it to Crowley’s mouth.

"Try it. Tell me, how it is."

Crowley moves away from the sweet cake with a grimace of unpleasantness.

"No, thank you. You know that... I'm not the biggest fan of sweet stuff. But you..." he murmurs, planting a quick kiss on his temple, "enjoy your cake."

"You suuuuurreeeee?" Aziraphale lifts his eyebrow and squints his eyes at Crowley, bringing the scoop to his lips very slowly, very deliberately. He closes his eyes when it touches his tongue and he can finally taste the treat.

"Mmmmmmmm... so gooooooood..." his mouth is full and he melts into the couch. "Why is it so good?"

The quantity of the cake on Aziraphale's plate diminishes and diminishes until one final bite is left.

"Crowley...this is your last chance. Take it or leave it."

It is obvious Aziraphale wants the last bite, but he is willing to make that sacrifice if Crowley would want that. He licks his lips, but there is still a little bit of chocolate left on the corner of his mouth.

"Hmmmm... Yes, I'm sure."

Crowley smirks and leans closer to Aziraphale, eyes on his prize.

"I can have my own dessert."

He brings his hand on the angel’s mouth and wipes the remaining chocolate from the angel's lips. The next second he licks it from his finger, grinning widely: "Tastes good... Heavenly, even."

Aziraphale’s mouth forms a shy smile and his cheeks flush red. He takes the final bite and finishes his feast. Although, with a much more adorable self-consciousness than before. He puts the plate away and then looks at Crowley again. His cheeks still have a soft shade of red, but his smile is much more sly.

"I wonder..." he leans closer, "if the wine has a different, " he looks at Crowley’s lips, "taste when it has touched your..."

Aziraphale's sentence remains unfinished when he places his lips on Crowley’s, running his tongue along the demon's lips, trying to gather the taste of both him and the wine. Then he retreats, being very pleased with the result.

"Even better," the angel hums.

Then he takes a pillow from the couch, puts it on Crowley’s lap and lays down, head resting on it.

"Now..." he stretches, every joint cracking so unexpectedly loudly that he feels Crowley flinch underneath him, "you have always enjoyed the amenities of my lap and couch. It is my turn. I want to see what is so appealing in all of this besides the obvious. I want you to pamper me. So please...be my guest!" The angel wiggles, showing his readiness for affections.

"Such a tease..." Crowley murmurs when Aziraphale's divine lips leave his.

The demon places his hands on the angel's cheeks and gently strokes them. One of the hands slowly travels upwards, playing now with soft white curls. Nails carefully scratch his scalp, massaging the head.

"You'll find out soon..." Crowley says with a content smile on his face.

"The beginning is not bad..." Aziraphale closes his eyes, starting to feel the touch and massage, "not bad at all..." and soon enough he is purring just like a real cat.

Every now and then it thunders and the rain is pitter-pattering against the window. The inside of the bookshop is cosy, full of warmth and love. They stay like this for hours. Just meditating and enjoying each other's company. Just as they have done for so many years.

Then Aziraphale decides to start another conversation. There are a few questions that are nagging him. However, he is still very much in Crowley's lap and he is not planning to move from there anytime soon.

"What happens to her now?"

The demon's hand stills for a moment and then on the next second, he continues playing with the curls.

"I don't know. I wish I did..."

Crowley sighs leaning more into the couch.

"She's still very much capable of commanding other demons and ruling Hell. She might just need a bit of help but you know... It is hard. Demons do not trust each other and try to get through her pride. That is a challenge all on its own." Crowley chuckles, albeit bitterly. Lucifer's pride and stubbornness have always condemned her and in the end...it had become her damnation.

Aziraphale opens his eyes and blinks up at Crowley. "She trusts you."

"I know that, angel. But still..." the demon closes his eyes, stopping stroking the other's hair, "even if she wants me to help her... I don't think that I would be able to."

"Why not? You have done things for her before. Would it be that much different?"

"That is not the same, angel. If I go, I would always be... down there... Not much freedom, huh?"

"Oh...right." Aziraphale lifts his hand to touch Crowley’s face. "We wouldn’t want that."

The angel sighs and drops his hand.

"I don’t know her very well. Well, definitely not as much as you. But I have heard the stories and interacted with her a couple of times. She seems to be one of the fiercest and most stubborn people I have ever met. I am sure she will figure something out." A small smile is directed at Crowley. "The stubbornness seems to run in the family."

Then suddenly he bites his lip and turns away, debating with himself. Should he ask or should he not?

"Crowley..."

"Yes?"

Aziraphale takes in an inhale of courage.

"How...how did she become The Devil? How did she manage to convince millions and become their leader? And..." hesitates for a second, "why did you follow her? I am not judging. I...it is just something I have always wondered about. I wasn’t there, so I don’t know. I heard the stories, but you know, it is mostly propaganda. Very tilted. I want to hear it from someone who went through all of this. I want to hear it from...you."

"Hmm..." Crowley furrows his eyebrows, sinking deep into his thoughts. Nobody during those 7000 years since he Fell had asked him about this. Everybody in Heaven, Hell and on Earth seemed to assume that they knew all that was needed to know. They did not ponder or dive deeper. They did not ask. But the young angel in his lap did ask and now he needs to come up with an answer.

"Me and my three siblings: Michael, Gabriel and Lucifer - were the first angels that The Almighty ever created. The thing that binds us is Prima Luce 2. We just know to call it that, but it makes sense when you think about it. Anyway, the reason why it links us together is that we all were created from the same Light, Prima Luce. This is our deepest essence. Yes, we are all separate individuals and often times nothing alike, but THIS is the primal bond that ties us together nonetheless. So you can imagine what the Fall meant for us. But I have already told you that part, haven't I?"

"You have."

"Then why do you let me yammer on about it then?"

"Because I like to hear you talking."

That causes Crowley to blush and he looks away from Aziraphale who chuckles merrily.

"Ngk...ahem... then I'll talk about something you haven't heard before," Crowley huffs, slightly flustered.

"Please do," Aziraphale encourages. 

"Anyway...Back in Heaven...Lucifer had always been a bit different. Highly intelligent and bold. She often pondered and searched for reason behind things.

She was the first one... who started to ask questions and saw that not all was flawless in the system that had been established. Determined as she was, she began to look for the answers herself. She piqued the interest of many angels and soon enough there were gatherings where she presented her theories and thoughts. Doubt began to enter many minds. It was a whisper that turned into a shouting rebellion.

The more angels she got behind her back, the more fearless she became, until she challenged Mother Herself. When others asked, Lucifer demanded answers. The only answer that she got was Her smile and the War. The mess it was. I can still remember the sound of her roar when Michael took her divinity." He shudders. "Never again do I want to hear that."

Then Crowley chuckles, resentment and a slight hint of self-humour echoing in it. "I never meant to Fall. It just somehow happened. I had asked a few inconvenient questions of my own and -boom! - down with millions I went. Lucifer offered her hand to me and I took it. After all, she was the only family that I thought I had left and I continued to think so until very recently.

As to how she became The Queen of All Hell...well, it isn't really that hard to see why. She is...irresistible and smart. When she is not moody. Also, she knows how to throw the best parties. Tell me that this does not help you to get on the people's or in this case demons' good side. So to speak. 'Good side' is a loose term in Hell."

Aziraphale listens to him attentively. Crowley may not know this, but he is a great storyteller. Aziraphale can’t help, but to be entranced by everything he says, to listen to his every word and try to remember it all.

When Crowley finishes, Aziraphale holds the pause, letting it settle in.

After a while, he takes one of Crowley’s hands, brings it above his chest and starts playing with his fingers, admiring them as he feels them.

"She loves you. She has her own very...peculiar...way of expressing it, but she does. I feel it. I see it. For once being an angel has its perks." Aziraphale chuckles before looking up at Crowley and playfully scolds him. "I have my sensitivity down...otherwise I would be drowned by your love. Quite literally, in fact."

"And I'm not sorry at all. Why should I be? You shall suffer from the amount of love I give you."

Aziraphale shakes his head then returns to play with the demon's fingers.

"Regardless, I can still sense the emotions and feelings enough and - help me, somebody! - you are all so frustrating! Especially him," Aziraphale groans as he looks up towards Lucifer’s temporary bedroom door.

Crowley only chuckles, being way too content in the moment, and lets the angel play with his fingers, his snakish body completely relaxed on the couch and in Aziraphale's hand.

"Shhh... Let them be. He might be the most obnoxious man-child that I know, but Lucifer likes him and he has always had a soft spot for her.She deserves to have some company too. Especially when her brother has such a charming one," Crowley says the last part with tenderness and slides his index finger down Aziraphale's nose bridge.

The angel catches that finger and kisses the tip of it. Then he continues where he left off.

"No...you misunderstood me. What frustrates me is not him, although I was hardly pleased when he threatened you, but the way he handles his emotions." He sighs and looks up at Crowley. "He loves her. More than he cares to admit. And I saw that underneath his suave demeanour he was trying to cover his...fear...and...anger.

That’s why I... why I didn’t react as quickly as I should have. I am sorry I didn’t come to your aid sooner. It was hard for me to react and be so straightforward when I saw that all his fury was due to his incapability to handle and to understand his emotions such as fear and anger for her situation.

And I doubt that she knows any of this. And I doubt that she has told anything about her own emotions either.

Why does your lot not like to tell about those important things? It would be so much easier.

I mean, look at us. You did not have to suffer because you did not know. I may not have told you, but I was pretty obvious with all the hints so that we could work with a lighter heart. Centuries worth of confusion avoided."

Aziraphale nods in proud achievement. Crowley does not tell Aziraphale that the memory may not have been as correct as the other would like to think. So instead he sighs and gives the angel's curls another pet.

"That's the difference between us and the angels. We... don't know how to handle our emotions. Well, we might be decent in controlling them. Sometimes. But we do not understand them or know have to come to terms with certain feelings. When the world has made you lurk in the darkness, then why would you burden yourself with the knowledge that you might not be as tough as you think? It's almost like a survival instinct or something..." Crowley chuckles, before looking at the angel with seriousness and a hint of curiosity. "Angel... tell me...my emotions... How do they feel? I've heard that when it comes to demons... It feels different than the ones of the others?"

Aziraphale blinks up at him, trying to understand the question and then furrows his brow, thinking. He has stopped playing with Crowley’s hand and now simply holds it in between his.

"Well...it is actually more complicated than that. Every person has their own aura and they spread flashes of emotional energy. It is not consistent and can change quickly. Due to that nature, it is not easy to always pinpoint the exact emotional state of a person, because it becomes usually a mix of many various feelings.

It gets even worse when there are a lot of people. Then it all moulds into one grey mass or complete chaos of all the auras unless their emotional state is very similar. The only way to navigate is when you know exactly what you are looking for and even then it is rather difficult.

It takes practice if you want to use it efficiently because it can easily overwhelm you and you might not function properly for quite some time.

That’s why I have it toned down.

As for demons...as for you," Aziraphale looks up into Crowley’s eyes, analysing, " well, you have Hellfire around your aura. You can conjure that, can’t you? Not all demons have it, but you all..." Aziraphale waves with his hand, trying to find a way to describe the aura, "...you all...have this...obsidian shine. Right where we would have halos. And...even though it is mostly faint...there is always a scent of burning, of fire along with it."

"But you, my dearest..." Aziraphale cups Crowley's cheek with one of his hands, “your flashes can be rather intense. I do not know how to describe it to you, how I know without seeing your aura that these emotions are yours. I just do. And when I do see it, it is usually the Hellfire part that is suddenly very expressive and very passionate.

But I do not look for it very often. I need to level up my sensitivity for that and that makes me very receptive to all the emotions and auras around me. They are often too overbearing.

Honestly, I have wondered why angels have this ability. I guess it is for us to better empathise with people and offer them the right kind of help, but it is a very tricky ability to manage.

By the way...your aura...presence...Irecognise it from everywhere. Amongst millions. I will always know it is yours. Well, almost always at least," Aziraphale chuckles, his eyes shining brightly.

Crowley in return hums, nuzzling his nose against the angel's palm. He stays quiet for a while, again enjoying the comfort and the angel's gentle touches.

"Each ability has its own pros and cons. I, for example, have an excellent sense of smell and thus taste. The ability is usually more trouble than it is worth," Crowley freezes for a second," Come to think of it I have no idea how I survived my time spent in Europe before the 20th century. And in London! Bless that stench!" And now Crowley laughs rather wholeheartedly. "I...I guess...hahaha...you really do get used to with everything."

"Is that why you seldom eat? I always thought you just did not fancy eating as an act," Aziraphale asks.

Crowley chuckles: "And you have been correct. I am not into eating. The thought is not appalling or anything, but...I don't know really, I just never get to it. And yes, it has partially to do with my taste and smell hypersensitiveness. So, that's why I leave all the degustation to you and when you approve of the dish, then I know it might be worth trying."

Aziraphale squints his eyes at Crowley and a small pout appears on the angel’s face.

"So you have been using me after all. Unless it is wine or another sort of alcohol. Then you are oh so ready to ride the horses."

"But alcohol is...you know...alcohol. It is different."

"How?"

"What do you mean ‘how’? It just is."

"Not a sufficient answer."

"I..you...urgh...it is...ngk...you know...grapes and...uhm...stuff..."Crowley then sighs and gives up on the losing battle, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes.

"I think my tongue is broken. I can't talk properly."

Aziraphale giggles, being very satisfied with his small victory.

"Well, I think your tongue is lovely." A cheeky smile appears on the angel's face. Now he wants to claim his reward. “May I inspect it more closely?"

Crowley is confused. "Why do you want to... inspect... it?"

"Ugh! Just come here... " Aziraphale groans while rolling his eyes. He twists Crowley’s necktie around his wrist and pulls the demon down, meeting him halfway. He whispers, almost touching the other's lips: "This is what I meant, my oblivious friend..."

The angel's lips touch the demon’s and Aziraphale’s tongue slips in, searching for Crowley’s.

The demon, meanwhile, uses one of his arms as a support for himself, kissing the angel back. He breaks the kiss, moving away just enough to murmur: "You cheeky bastard..."

Then he leans in again to kiss Aziraphale and to hear his quiet 'mhm'.

Aziraphale smirks and kisses Crowley back, throwing one of his arms around Crowley's neck in an embrace. As they continue to make out, Aziraphale gradually rises to sit and then he smoothly climbs onto the demon’s lap, pressing himself against his figure. The angel’s one hand goes into the ginger hair and another one slides down on Crowley’s neck. 

This time the blond is the one who breaks the kiss to look down at his hand's journey. He sees that the poor demon has suffered a lot of bites and scrapes. He glides his fingertips gently over those places, feeling them. He smiles fondly: "My apologies to your skin...I got carried away."

Crowley fails to hold back a shiver when the angel touches the bites and scrapes on his skin. He hisses with a pleased smile on his face: "Oh yessss... you did."

This is an invitation and Aziraphale accepts it as he playfully pouts: "Poor Serpent...a nasty angel attacked you. How horrible was this?" He nuzzles into the demon's neck. "What kind of tortures you had to endure?" Now the angel kisses and licks the marks that he left. "Oh, the suffering! What kind of fate do we wish upon that vile being? Hmm? "

Aziraphale lifts his face from Crowley’s neck and stares back at him with a grin.

"Wait for a second..." he rolls up his sleeves to reveal a glorious set of blues, teeth and nail marks, "The Serpent was not merciful either. Now..." he puts those same hands on the demon’s hips, "How can we possibly settle this dispute, oh Master of Temptation?"

"Hmmm... There are so many options what one could do with a nasty angel. I can't seem to decide," Crowley almost purrs the reply, placing his own hands on the angel's waist.

"I do hope that you figure something out soon. I may have eternity, but my patience does not." Aziraphale chuckles. "Sometimes I do doubt if I am an angel. My selfish aspirations are surfacing more and more. Is there any angelicness left at all or should I just give up and indulge in my desires?"

"Maybe that's my fault? I'm known to be a bad influence, " Crowley hums as he leans closer to Aziraphale's ear into where he whispers like the snake he is: "Indulge in your desires, my personal demon."

Aziraphale shakes his head and sighs with affection: "What have I done to deserve you, my dearest boy? Indulgence it is then."

His hands then escape underneath Crowley’s shirt and he starts tracing the bones and lines of his back. The hands glide, stroking the skin that in some parts are smooth and flawless and in other places scraped and uneven. Aziraphale smiles apologetically and then with a tiniest of miracles heals marks of his lust.

At first, the hands are low but with a rhythm they move higher and higher. Crowley's body is like clay in Aziraphale's hands, being felt and moulded and traced. His hands have made it to the shoulder blades, caressing and massaging the spots of Crowley's wings and a small area around it.

"I remember...I remember when you danced and when you...when you had your magnificent black wings out...and you showed them...you showed yourself to the whole world. I did not approve for obvious reasons but now...I wish I could see it again. I wish I could see your wings again."

Crowley feels the worship of Aziraphale's hands. His whole body dwells in the sensation, guzzling it. When the other's hands are on his shoulder blades Crowley shivers yet again under the touch and nuzzles his nose against Aziraphale's neck.

"Your wish is my command."

One second and big dark wings appear behind the demon's back. Crowley breathes out and moves his shoulders, stretching the pair of limbs that usually remain out of sight.

"Ahh.. it feels good. Finally, they can breathe again."

Aziraphale's eyes are wide in bewilderment. They take his breath away every time. Then another flash of lightning and the feathers shimmer like the most beautiful of obsidians. Perfect. Flawless.

"How..." Aziraphale almost touches the wings but restrains himself. They seem too sacred to him. Too sacred to touch. "How do you manage to keep them so..."

_Divine._

"Absolute?" Aziraphale finishes his question, having almost slipped with his language use.

Crowley chuckles warmly, his wings relaxing and his hands travelling to Aziraphale's small of the back.

"Nothing complicated. Just taking care of them every once in a while. You can touch them. I don't mind."

"Well, this reminds me to do some grooming. I am not that good at it. I am scared to even look at them. Don't want to know into what catastrophe they have morphed."

"I can help you... Give a couple of tips on how to take care of them," Crowley suggests.

Aziraphale doesn't answer. Instead he carefully places the back of his hand on the feathers. They are incredibly soft. He turns his hand around and gently starts stroking the wings.

His soft gaze returns to Crowley when he murmurs: "Do you remember our first time? Upstairs. Under the moon. You remember that?"

Crowley's eyes suddenly light up at one of his most cherished memories and he moves his wings closer to the angel.

"Of course I remember. How can I forget that?"

Slowly he starts changing his form and after a couple of seconds, Crowley is sitting with longer hair and a bit different body shape. A body of a female. She hums quietly to her angel few lines of the song that he sang to her when she was safe and loved in his arms after their first time together: ” _In other words, darling...kiss me._ ”

Aziraphale's beautiful wide smile appears and he leans closer to sing to her tenderly:

" _Fill my heart with song_

_And let me sing forevermore,_

_You are all I long for_ ," he brushes the ginger locks out of Crowley’s face,

" _All I worship and adore..._

_In other words, please be true,_ " Aziraphale wraps his arms around the demon.

" _In other words..._ "

He stops singing. The only thing that can be heard is the rain. Not even their hearts are beating. 

He whispers so quietly that only Crowley could possibly hear it.

These words are not meant for anybody else.

Never. Not like this.

Only for Crowley.

"I love you."

The lips on Crowley’s lips are the gentlest in the world. Never before has it been so tender and sincere.

So pure.

So sacred.

Crowley can only smile into the kiss and hug Aziraphale closer to herself.

"I love you too... my dear angel," her wings wrap around them, another struck of lightning reflecting on the obsidian feathers. "Looks like we have found our favourite song. Hmm?"

"I think we have," Aziraphale agrees. He closes his eyes and rests his head under the demon’s chin, feeling protected and cherished. How was he able to live without that? For 6000 years...

"Crowley...for you...was it worth the wait? Was I worth it?"

"It was worth the wait. It was... And I'm happy that I waited because now you're here with me." She places a soft kiss on the angel's hair. "You are worth everything, my love."

Aziraphale sighs with the deepest of contentments.

He is happy.

He truly is.

And he is curious. He wants to know, not just sense it. He wants to really feel it.

He inhales and then activates it. At first, there is nothing unusual and then it hits him all at once.

He loses the entirety of his oxygen as he simultaneously tenses and becomes limb.

So much. There is so much of it that he drowns. Drowns in all of it. There are no flashes of it. It is just pouring over him.

Love.

Crowley’s love.

So pure. So overwhelming.

He opens his eyes and somehow shakily manages to push himself a bit further away from Crowley. To really look at her. His own eyes are glowing a little with a hint of blue in them.

His voice is quivering when he speaks.

"You...asked me...how do your emotions feel like...how do they look like...

Untamed...passionate...beautiful...so very beautiful."

He starts to turn down his sensitivity. Otherwise, he thinks he will explode. He is still trembling when his hands come to touch her face, fingertips tracing the lines.

"And you, my dearest, are invaluable to me. Never anything less. Never."

Aziraphale kisses her forehead, almost blessing her with his kiss."Shall you always be safe and cherished."

A gentle smile appears on the demon's face and she shifts back into her more masculine form. His hands come up to touch Aziraphale's cheeks.

"Be careful, angel. I don't want you to accidentally bless me. Still too much of a demon for that."

Crowley chuckles and places a quick kiss on the corner of the other's mouth. He can still taste the chocolate dessert on those lips. Sweet and indeed well made. Then his mind reminds him of somebody else and he pulls away, black wings still wrapped around them.

"What do you think... Can I see Lucifer now?"

* * *

  1. “Thank you,” in Latin. For angels and demons it is a very personal way of saying this.
    1. First Light. No other angels have this essence but the first angelic quadruplets: Michael, Gabriel, Lucifer and Raphael. The rest of the angels have their very own essence, otherwise known as Light.



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is the song that Aziraphale sang to Crowley during their first night together. There is actually a story written about it. Perhaps I publish it at some point, but for now a bit of good old-school music.
> 
> [Jack Jones - ”Fly Me To The Moon” ](https://youtu.be/UxxJYQpVjxw)


	8. The Golden Wing Should Have Stayed On The Lightbringer’s Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The demonic siblings are having a much needed conversation. Turns out even the most ancient have something to learn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is one of my favourites. Here we get a little glimpse into Lucifer’s and Crowley’s relationship which is complicated to say the least.
> 
> It is never easy between the siblings.
> 
> If you have any questions or thoughts, feel free to leave them down below.
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

  
"Well...," Aziraphale pulls Crowley's wing downwards to peek towards the upstairs. The angel blinks in surprise when he notices how the bedroom door is open. He could swear it wasn't before.

"I think she is expecting you," he says to Crowley. The demon's own gaze follows the journey of Aziraphale's gaze and ends up on the door. Aziraphale notices the quick gulp before Crowley turns back with a smile.

"Well then, I can't keep her waiting. She is not particularly famed for her patience. Although she can be rather persistent when she sets her mind on something. You can join me if you want." It is clear that Crowley wants Aziraphale to say yes, but the angel knows that he has no place in the conversation that the siblings are about to have. So, instead he plants a quick kiss on the demon's nose.

"I better not. If you want something or she does, then call me. I will, meanwhile, clean up," Aziraphale says and brushes Crowley's wings from his way and smoothly slips from the demon's lap. Crowley remains to sit for a few more moments to watch Aziraphale almost demonstratively picking up the dirty dishes and go to a sink at the other side of the bookshop.

"Ok..." Crowley sighs, knowing that he cannot postpone it any longer. His wings disappear as he stands up and starts making his way towards the upstairs.

He is not scared of his sister per se. It is more like a hunch that something inconvenient may come. Some sort of deeper conversation, now that perhaps she is more adequate. Truth be told, he wants to have this chat, but the uncertainty of the subject and the consequences are a bit dreadful to him.

Would it be Lucifer or Satan to whom he speaks? - he does not know and, for different reasons, neither one of the options seem ideal.

Before stepping into the bedroom, Crowley halts, takes a deep breath and then softly knocks on the wooden doorframe.

"Lucifer... That's me, Crowley."

"I know it is you. Do come in," to his great pleasure her voice is much stronger, healthier. Much more like her.

"How are you? Why do I even ask... I can already hear that you're feeling much better," he chuckles as he finally steps in, running his hand through his hair to attempt slicking it at least a bit.

Lucifer lays on the bed, her beautiful blonde locks flowing over her shoulders. Her cheeks are still sunken and there are dark circles under her eyes, but at least she does not look like she owes Death a penny.

She smiles to Crowley in her familiar way. He has to admit that he has missed that smile.

"Better. And you, my dear brother? After someone’s little power demonstration..." she squints her eyes and turns to look disapprovingly at her shoulder.

Crowley is caught off guard with that question.

"You know about that? I am fine but where is..." his eyes follow his sister's actions. Crowley lifts his eyebrow when a quiet grumble can be heard from the shoulder underneath the curtain of her hair.

Lucifer is not pleased and she scolds the voice: "I don’t think he heard you, darling."

With a smooth hand movement she pulls her hair away to reveal the now very downsized Lord of Chaos in his true form, curled around her shoulders and pouting. This time the answer is louder although reluctant.

"I may have overreacted. I am..." Discord grimaces as he whines. "Don’t make me say it!"

Lucifer rolls her eyes and sighs in disappointment.

"Then off you go..." and she shimmies her shoulder, hinting for him to leave. This doesn't sit well with Discord and he obliges.

"Fine!" He looks at Crowley, cringing when he manages to say."Sorry."

After that difficult challenge, he hides his face against her neck and curls around her even more.

Lucifer just shakes her head and turns to Crowley with a look that says _'What am I going to do with him?'_

Her only hand comes to pet him gently.

Crowley looks at Discord, barely able to contain his laughter. There is no doubt that his sister has the great Lord of Chaos wrapped around her little finger. It is so evident in the way that he eats up any validation that she gives him; each touch she gives him is treated as a reward as he snuggles against her hand when she pets him.

Crowley also doesn't fail to notice their shared smile of fondness when they hand out affections to each other. He sees it first hand, the meaning behind Aziraphale's words. They care about one another. Like him and Aziraphale, and why should he, her brother, deny her a similar connection with someone dear to her?

"We are good. But no more threatening Aziraphale. Is that clear?" he says to Discord with a smile, but the last part holds a certain amount of sternness. The little beast opens his red eyes and seems to consider the demon’s words before finally nodding and then returning to enjoy Lucifer's attention.

The attention is quickly taken away however, when Lucifer turns her gaze to Crowley. Instinctively the ginger straightens up, bracing himself.

"I need to go back to Hell. You know how it is. The place can run..." Lucifer throws a quick glance to her partner, "havoc without proper leadership. And we don't want that. You have to take me back. And for that, I need an arm and a leg."

There is a pause when the two siblings hold eye contact with each other. The ticking of a clock and Aziraphale's activities downstairs are the only sounds for a while. Then the younger one answers: "I'm only taking you back. I won't stay down there."

At that Lucifer only chuckles, pulling off her covers, showing her more healed shoulder and hip but which still are very obviously lacking limbs.

"I can’t sit properly and I am not even going to start talking about walking. I cannot go back looking like this."

She tries to push herself more upward but fails. A flash and before she falls back onto the pillows, Discord has returned to his regular size and she falls against his chest.

She growls in frustration through her gritted teeth: "I. Am. Not. Weak."

Her hair has fallen in front of her face, but through the locks, her demonic eyes are still shining through. They are of fire and flames. "And I will be blessed if Hell starts to think any differently."

Discord smiles proudly and brushes the hair from her face with his talons, meanwhile, supporting her with his body to enable her to sit up.

Lucifer straightens and with her hair being brushed away the demonicness is replaced with green.

Her voice is authoritative: "Crowley...I need you to go down there. See how things are. Then return with an overview and while you are in Hell, go to the Maisters and have them forge me an arm and a leg. Three sets for each of my main forms. They all must be impeccable. Make sure of that."

Her breathing has become heavier. She is still not well enough, but she tries to suppress her exhaustion: "It might take you a while, I am afraid, but I have no one else.”

With that, the queen is finished and she leans more against Discord, feeling tired. Her body cannot keep up with her intensity.

"I won't g..." the demon is about to fiercely protest but he doesn't finish his sentence, looking at her.

He does not want to go back to Hell. Every time he squirms back to that dark place, it always has a sense of temporariness in it. He has never planned to stay. In fact, he has used every chance of taking on fieldwork he has been presented or even sought out himself. To many demons Hell is not an ideal place, but it is familiar and their domain. Their new home after the Fall. Even after everything that Lucifer has made of it, Hell has never felt quite right to him. Only after he met with Aziraphale, only after he had fallen irreversibly in love with the angel had he understood why.

Hell has never felt like home. Not the way that Earth has.

That is what he wants to tell her. That he is not going back down there. That he has had enough.

But he can't. Not when he sees that frail figure with a lot of determination but physically with very little to back it up with. Half of her limbs are gone for forever, after all.

And it is his fault. The fault of her little brother.

Besides, she is right. Hell cannot manage without a leader for too long. When you have a place full of lost souls, you need somebody to guide them, and nobody has been better at it than Lucifer Morningstar. Hell is far from perfect, quite the opposite rather, yet Crowley knows nobody else who could manage it but her and her Dark Council. She needs to return and she needs to do so as the powerful Queen of Hell.

"Yes. Fine. I'm going back to Hell," he finally sighs. "I'll make sure that everything is done perfectly, Lucifer. Trust me on that..."

Crowley wants to leave but just as he is about to, something hits him. A dash of courage to be more precise. If he is not going to voice it now, then things will continue as they have. He does not want this. He has had enough.

Sharply The Serpent turns around and looks The Devil dead in the eye: "But that is my last act of service for you. I am not on Hell's side. Not anymore. I am on my own with Aziraphale and that is my decision. I don't ask you to approve of it, but I ask you to respect it. I live on Earth, not in Hell"

The declaration ends. Now he needs to wait for the response.

First, she glares at him, not liking the disobedience. She regards him intently, analyzing him in every way.

That look is very uncomfortable, pouring deep into his soul, and seems to last forever. He hates when she does this.

On Earth, Lucifer would be a great judge. One of those looks and humans would spill all their dirty little secrets. In fact, they have. It is one of Lucifer's favourite past time activities whenever she is on Earth. Crowley has witnessed it first hand. This look has never failed. It can even demand obedience from the demon.

Green eyes. Screams. Millions of faces.

Crowley's knee wobbles and for a moment he is terrified that she would bash inside his head yet again.

_Please not this. Please..._

Finally, she blinks and sighs heavily, ready to admit the truth to herself.

"I suppose you do," there is the tiniest hint of sadness as she speaks. "You have always done better in here than in Hell. But do not think I will let you out of my sight so easily. You are a demon and I expect things to be done."

The following words hurt her more than she lets others know, but she wants to be fair to her brother. Maybe it is finally time to deliver on her very first promises. Perhaps her brother would be a good start.

The quickest glance to the above and then back to Crowley: "If this is what you want...Then you are no longer chained to reside in Hell. You may permanently live here if you so wish, but do not forget your...status and position. You will always answer to me. You will still be a demon."

"I'm not saying that I don't want to be a demon anymore. I..."

Crowley stays quiet for a couple of minutes, searching for the right words. She is more lenient than he thought. She deserves at least a somewhat adequate response.

"After everything that has happened - and I mean everything since the Fall - we just want to live in peace. A life without drama and pain. Without this constant axe above our heads that another destruction shall fall upon us," a weak chuckle escapes his lips as he lifts his hand to adjust his glasses, but notices that he is not wearing them at all. Instead, he shrugs.

"I can sense your reluctance.... and sadness. No need to hide them from me. But you know...when you have lived as long and as crazily as we have... Then at some point, you are prone to have a need for a ‘vacation’ from this lifestyle. It might not be like that for you, but you should at least try to see my point of view in this, " with his last words, Crowley comes closer to Lucifer and sits on her bed. He doesn't look at his sister or wait for her to respond. Instead, his eyes move towards Discord and The Serpent orders: "You. Take care of her..."

Discord bares his teeth and then grins wickedly: "I can probably defer my arrangements..."

His demeanour may have been nonchalant, but his paw on her waist and protective stature give away his real intentions. He may not acknowledge the extent of his feelings for her, but his instincts and body already do. He is learning.

Meanwhile, Lucifer is fully resting against his chest. She scoffs: "You are hardly ever useful. You only give me more extra work, and every time, I have to clean up the mess that you leave behind in my realm."

He pretends to be clueless: "Mess? What mess? I am not even lifting a finger when I pass through..."

Suddenly a coughing fit seems to attack him and Crowley is fairly certain that he heard the word "mostly" thrown somewhere in between.

Crowley mustn't have been the only one who noticed this because Lucifer rolls her eyes. Discord grins. She sighs as the beast playfully nuzzles his nose against her cheek. She then turns to Crowley.

"I...I..." she stops, addressing her partner, " Discord, give us a moment. Alone."

To their surprise, Discord does as she asks without a single comment. A quick peck on her cheek, a snap of his fingers and he is gone. In his place he leaves a stack of pillows, enabling her to sit on her own. She groans a bit but then locks eyes with Crowley.

She looks at him for a while. Just looks. As if flipping through a memory book, trying to find suitable words.

Then her hand slowly comes to touch Crowley’s cheek. It may have gone unnoticed but there was a small flinch on her armless shoulder.

She had wanted to use both of her hands.

Her beautiful fingers run tenderly on his freckles and her green eyes are filled with fondness as she does that.

Crowley leans closer and nuzzles against her hand, closing his eyes. Her light touch against his freckles - it brings back memories with her words.

"Raphael...Paulo Stella...I remember when you created your first galaxy," she chuckles at the fond memory, "You were so excited to show that to us. And we all thought that it was absolutely adorable. Your enthusiasm and inquisitiveness...it just made us love you even more which is something that is very hard to surpass already. Especially in the instance of Gabriel. You were his favourite out of the three of us. I can’t even blame him for that. I really can’t."

His first galaxy. Later it was named Centaurus A. It is still a mystery for people because of its strange shape and activity. It does not follow the rules that humans have thought up about the outer space and the galaxies in it. They have still so much to learn.

His first creation, and it didn't turn out right even according to more ethereal standards. But he did not care back then. That was his first galaxy. He made it with his own hands. Like a small child, he called his siblings to show off his "artistic mess".

Paulo Stella - they all had called him by the name that literally stuck to his face. It still does.

Her tender fingers are touching his freckles, his personal stars. There was love back then. Oh, so much love...

And even now...

Thousands of years later...

He feels a bit of warmth that wants to break through his demonic barrier. Thus far only Aziraphale has managed to get in after the Fall and now Lucifer attempts to scrape at least a bit of the surface with her touch.

She tries to show him a bit of love.

A breath gets caught in his throat at that thought and he comes back to reality. His words are barely a whisper: "Centaura A... I still remember the mess I created. But you have to admit it had a certain kind of beauty to it."

"It did. Horribly constructed, but delightfully bizarre and adorable. Created by a true enthusiast, and look at where it got you later. To the most magnificent stellar creations that the universe has ever seen," she says with admiration and her gentle touch turns into a tender cradling of his cheek.

"You are our baby sibling. You were the most...deserving and pure.When I rebelled, I expected either Gabriel or Michael to follow me. To fight for my cause. But no. It was you. Of all the angels in the world, it had to be you."

There is a pause in her speech as she seeks the right words to express her innermost thoughts.

"I...I... I never wanted it to be you," she finally sighs and drops her hand.

"Ironic, isn’t it? I boasted about liberty, independence and free will. Yet, it was never a talk meant for you. In my mind, you were supposed to remain Upstairs, in Her love. Safe and innocent. You weren't supposed to come crashing down with me."

She pauses again. She knows the truth, she knows how to articulate it. She just needs a moment to find the courage to admit it. To admit it to Crowley. To herself.

"I have failed you." Lucifer glances down at his hand. Seeing a bit of his burn mark makes her frown. "I have failed in my duty as your sibling. I have failed..." she places her hand on top of his. She isn’t capable of finishing her sentence.

"That is why control matters to me. I still remember the world after I woke up as a Fallen. Oh, that bleak dark place. Hopeless place. And there you all were. All of you who were cast out. All of you were looking at me for answers, for guidance," she chuckles melancholically, caressing his hand.

"I didn’t have any. I was as clueless as you. As lost as you. And then I saw you, Crowley..." Her hand stops moving. Her expression freezes as she relives that memory.

"Your eyes...your beautiful golden eyes had changed...changed into the one’s of a serpent. But no matter the amount of pain, the flow of tears..." slowly she lifts her gaze to meet his.

"You had faith. You still have. After all those years..."

Silence. They hold their conversation between their eyes. Some things cannot be said in the language of words. Things that are too great to be said out loud.

Then she speaks again because there are also things that _need_ to be said out loud: "I don’t regret opposing Her. I do not agree with Her vague perspective on matters of all kind. All of the Fallen had their own rebellion, their own questions that they desired answer for. I looked at you all and I knew that I wasn’t capable of giving you what you wanted.But what I could give, were the reasons for your pain. A cause to fight for."

She grips his hand tighter in hers and addresses him more intensely: "All those aeons I kept you close, in certainty, that nothing more could harm you. That Hell could possibly be an opportunity for you.That this time..." her hand shakes as she squeezes even harder in overwhelming emotions, "I can protect you."

She sighs heavily and closes her eyes, loosening the grip on his hand. The faintest of smiles touches the corner of her mouth.

"All this time I thought that you needed me. But lately...I have come to realise that I..." she opens her eyes and looks at Crowley with a vulnerability that she hasn’t shown for a very long time, "I need you. You are the one who has inspired me, who has given me the will to rule, to fight, to stand true to my beliefs."

The smile on her face widens and widens. Her hand comes to gently run through his hair. She chortles when she notices that there is a little too much hairspray in it.

"You have grown. You don’t need me. You never have. You are perfectly capable, standing up for what you believe in. It just took you time to fully embrace it," Lucifer tells him in earnest.

Then she leans forward and tries to hug him, but it is difficult due to her disability. Regardless, she tries and confesses, looking deep into his eyes with her shimmering ones: "I want you to know...that underneath The Devil... underneath my pride and selfishness...that I am...

I am so proud of you."

He is dumbfounded, to put it mildly. This was definitely not the outcome that he was expecting. Well, he cannot leave her hanging like this, although most of him would just want to stare at her with his mouth agape in disbelief. Instead, Crowley forces himself to function and he comes closer to her to hug her properly. To pull his sister close to him like he has not been allowed to do for a very long time.

"I'm grateful for all the things you have done for me. You have always taken care of me... Even after the Fall... I wouldn't have been able to start my new life without Falling... Heaven wasn't right for me anymore. Obviously being cast out wasn't my preferred way to go, but rather this than being forced to stay. I chose to follow you because you were the one who dared to question and doubt first. You opened my eyes to the new possibilities that I never knew existed. You helped me in your own way to discover that there is more out there than Heaven, more that I could be.  
  
And when I finally climbed out of this sulphur lake, then you were there and offered me your hand in a time when I needed it the most. I changed. I became stronger thanks to you."

Then he moves away a bit and looks into her green eyes, his hands still holding her close to him.

"No. Both of us. Both of us have become stronger. And... you are wrong," Crowley smiles and places his hands gently on her face, thumbs stroking her cheekbones, "Both of us need each other. I need you. You need me. We are siblings. We can't live without each other. That's... that's simply impossible...And...Please forgive me for the fight. If it hadn't had happened... You wouldn't have gotten hurt. I'm so sorry, sister, " he wants to say something more, but instead, he moves closer and places her head against his chest. She has always been the one to protect him, to get him out of trouble. A sister who has always taken care of him. Now it is his turn...

"It was either you or me. I had it coming. I went after someone who you love the most in this world. I took it too far with my...fear and possessiveness. It was bound to get ugly, "she snuggles against his chest, feeling the care and protectiveness that Crowley produces. She has gotten that surprisingly a lot today. She doesn’t mind.

Crowley strokes her golden hair that despite everything still seems soft under his touch.

"Centaurus A..." he reminisces, "I created it while thinking about you. You and the other siblings. My family."

Lucifer's throat tightens when their family is mentioned.

Gabriel and...

The name hurts. The thoughts of her hurt and Lucifer wants to hide her pained face into Crowley’s embrace.

Yet...

Yet she still...

"I miss them. Have you seen any of them? After the Fall?"

"Yes, I have. Gabriel..." Crowley takes a deep breath and then continues, "We had a conversation with him. They... uh...they have been living all those years with a knowledge that I was dead. Gabriel couldn't believe that I was alive. But... Michael... She doesn't know that yet. She's still thinking that I'm.... gone." Then suddenly he laughs "But I'm here. Not as weak as all of you thought."

Lucifer smiles to herself as she does her signature tongue click.

"We keep underestimating you. We should stop doing that. After all...You are the very resistant Serpent of Eden," she chuckles with fondness. "And how is he? Still the pompous bastard with soft spots for certain things?"

"He's good. Still the same bastard..." a devious smirk appears on his lips as he leans closer to spill some gossip. He is a demon after all. "I heard that he and Lord Beelzebub are being all lovey-dovey again. Somethings do not seem to change."

Suddenly the smirk disappears and sadness fills the demon's eyes at the new thought. A desire, really. "Maybe... one day... all four of us will meet again and that in circumstances where we are not out to destroy each other."

She stops smiling and her face falls. She drops her gaze and bites her lower lip. The corner of her mouth twitches upwards, but it is filled with melancholy and wishful thinking.

"Who knows..." a quick glance to above,” maybe...maybe one day...we all..." a dreamy chortle escapes her lips, "Michael would love to see you again. Not so much me..." with the last words Lucifer swallows down her pride. She is still The Devil, and pridefulness and certain bitterness are still in her nature.

Then she looks at Crowley. Looks him over with a furrowed brow. After she is done, she smiles slightly and leans closer. She hesitates for a second. Lucifer hasn’t done that since the Fall.

Not even once.

However, now she wants to, feeling it to be right, necessary.

She kisses Crowley’s temple in familiar affection, giving him all her best wishes.

When her lips leave, she proceeds to hug him as tightly as her one arm allows, holding him to her for the last few minutes.

It was time to let Crowley go. To set him free.

To send him to his final task.

In his embrace, she remembers something and she mumbles: "Crowley...my wing...does he still have my wing?"

When her lips touch his temple, a small smile appears on his lips. He hums, feeling her affection in this act, and it is so right. It appears that some of the familial love has managed to break through the barrier of his demonic nature.

His arms wrap around her, holding her close to himself again and enjoying that rare moment of honesty.

"I think he has... somewhere... where it is protected. I'm sure that Aziraphale took good care of it. I'll ask him about it."

He knows how much her wings matter to her. She was proud of them. Her wings were the most beautiful wings he has ever seen. The Fall already took another two pairs as it took from him as well. He had taken one too, leaving her with just the one that is currently loosely folded behind her back.

He wants to do something.

He hesitates.

Right now... or never.

His black wings come out and wrap around her, hiding her from everyone, protecting her.

"I know that you need it. Let me do it for you, Lucifer. Just this once...My wings will become yours."

She, however, laughs, confused and thinking of it as a joke: "What?"

Then she understands or at least thinks she does; her eyes go terrifyingly wide and her mouth drops open in shock.

"No..." she starts shaking her head, more aggressively with each word, "No. Nonononono...NO!"

Frantically Lucifer looks at his wings before returning her gaze to his eyes. Panic absorbs her features and her hand trembles. Then she closes her eyes, takes a deep breath and forces herself to calm down.

When she opens her eyes again, her whole stature has become firm and authoritative.

She speaks in a voice that allows no compromise: "No. I will not accept your wings. I will not rob you. I will not take something that is yours. Never again. Never. And that is my final statement."

She holds the pause for weight. To help it set in. Then her face softens: "I have my own plan. So, please...if he has it, bring it to me and also...let him bring me holy water. This is what you can do for me instead."

Crowley moves his wings away from her and looks at her with great pain in his eyes. He had failed... again... to bring something good. To bring comfort. To reconnect.

He breathes out and shakes his head, closing his eyes and holding one hand up: "No. Stop, Lucifer. I didn't mean it like that... I...."

For a second the demon looks frustrated and he almost growls. He had only wanted to bring her calmness and protection. At least something. He didn't mean to give his wings... wing... to her. He is pretty sure that things don't work like that. If they would, then perhaps...

"Sorry... I just wanted..."

He stills.

Holy water.

She had asked about the holy water.

He brings his gaze back to her and suddenly his face is full of anger and even more pain. His eyes are glowing yellow. Fully.Crowley tries to breathe calmly, but only growls escape from his chest... He is furious and he is getting more so with every passing second.

"What?! Holy water?Are you crazy? What do you want to do with it? No... don't say it. I'm not stupid. I know...and you think I am foolish enough to help you with it? After everything we just talked about?! How dare you ask me this?!"

Too much, it is simply too much. He already held her lifeless body and he will be blessed to ever do that again. Never. Ever.

The cause of fury, however, only blinks rapidly in confusion at both her mistake at interpretation and Crowley’s sudden anger.

She gets thrown all the accusations so unexpectedly that she wants to back away, but her disabled form is still rather new and very clumsy and she falls on her back with a quiet groan.

Then she grits her teeth and she too becomes frustrated, biting through on what he is insinuating: "I am not going to kill myself! Who do you think I am? I am just adjusting to my new situation and for that, I need holy water. I won't harm myself with that. You have to trust me. Can you please do that? It is important to me."

Crowley looks into her eyes in where pain flashes and he gasps. He didn't expect himself to react like this. To rush into such an extreme conclusion without any consideration.

"Oh... Lucifer... Sorry. I didn't want... Uh."

He hides his face in his palms, taking a deep breath. How much of a mess he is. To have this be his first assumption...kind of stupid, if he knows anything about her. And his temper...had not made the situation better.

"Sorry. I overreacted...Give me just a second."

He stands up and goes towards the door: "Aziraphale... Can you come here?" Then he looks at her. "You're gonna have to explain why you need the holy water. He will kill me if I just ask him, I'm telling you. He will."

She doesn’t say a thing and then footsteps are heard. Soon enough a blond head pops in through the door.

"Crowley...you called me?" Aziraphale comes to stand next to Crowley and puts his hand on the demon’s shoulder. He looks between the siblings. "How can I help?"

Lucifer glances over at Crowley and when he doesn’t elaborate, she scoots to her pillows, cringing. After she has settled, she brushes her hair from her face and tries to make herself look more presentable.

Although her figure is sickly, she still manages to radiate the unnatural amount of beauty.

The Morningstar.

When she speaks, her voice is calm and her manner official: "Principality Aziraphale...do you still have my wing?"

A pause and then an answer from the angel: "I do."

Lucifer smiles and there is a hint of delight in her eyes: "Perfect. Can I have it back?"

Aziraphale shifts his gaze in slight uncomfortableness. A quick meeting with Crowley’s eyes and then back to her: "Ummm...urgh...I can't reattach it. It is not within my power. I am so sor..."

Her raised rand stops him from speaking and she chuckles: "I know that. Nonetheless, I still want it back into my possession. And I need holy water."

Aziraphale is not sure if he heard right.

"Pardon?"

"My wing and the holy water - I want them."

Aziraphale shakes his head and puts his hands in front of him, repeating a gesture that reflects his refusal. His tone has become more irritated: "You, demons, do not seem to realise that everything holy and divine are _fatal_ to you. Even after all that you have suffered. I am not your supplier. I will not have you use it.No. And that is final."

Lucifer sighs heavily, already tired of this conversation: "I am not going to kill myself. I am not going to harm myself or anybody else with it. I need it for a process...with..." she straightens up, "Besides, you already used divinity on me, " Aziraphale flinches, "so holy water is hardly anything different in your moral codex. It’s a means to an end."

She stops speaking and meets Aziraphale’s eyes, pouring into them, convincing him in her earnestness.

"Aziraphale...I know what I am doing."

Aziraphale looks back at her, searching for a lie. After a while, he closes his eyes and sighs in defeat. He believes her and Crowley hasn't objected yet. How did he become the holy water dealer for the demons?

"You will get your wing back and whatever it is you want to do with the holy water..." there is an almost unnoticeable headshake on Aziraphale's part, "I will do it. I am not risking with either of your wellbeings."

"It is a deal then..." Lucifer grins and gives the reluctant angel a cheeky wink.

Aziraphale chortles and then turns around.

"Crowley, would you please come with me? Help me with the wing."

The angel leaves the room with Crowley following him. He walks downstairs without saying a word and makes his way into a complicated labyrinth of bookshelves. Without his guidance, it would be so easy to get lost.

But he knows.

Aziraphale stops before a door and with a gentle placement of his palm and a little glow, it draws open.

A room is revealed.

Or a workshop, to be more precise. The room is filled with enormous piles of paper and books, some laying open, some filled with notes with Aziraphale’s neat handwriting.

There are kettles, herbs, beakers and flasks that have various liquids and infusions in them.

It is a full alchemy lab and Crowley never knew it existed.

However, it all is almost unnoticeable, because what gets all the attention upon entering is a table in the middle of the room.

Or rather...

What is on it.

It is grandiose, absolutely regal. The light in the room illuminates it so, that it seems to be shining. Shining with gold.

Objectively it is the most beautiful wing that Aziraphale has ever seen.

Even now he can’t get his eyes off of it.

He whispers: "It is still unspeakably gorgeous. Now I know why she was...is The Morningstar."

"I never knew that you have this kind of room, angel," the demon muses, looking around the place with curiosity and nodding his head in approval. That is a great surprise to him, but he had already guessed that there are still things that he does not know about this angel. And ever since he had realized that, he has been terribly excited at the prospect of unravelling them for the rest of the eternity. He chuckles and comes next to Aziraphale, bringing all his attention onto the wing.

"It is."

Slowly he comes closer to the wing and gently touches the golden feathers. Still so soft and silky. Only she has these kinds of feathers. Crowley's face suddenly changes. He lifts his hand with a sharp motion. It feels so wrong to touch it. It looks so wrong not being attached to his sister's back. Up in Heaven, she used to cover him with her wings. Sometimes they acted as a blanket for him when he took a nap somewhere.

They sheltered and protected him and they were always with his sister.

Not alone.

Not like some exhibit on display in the museum.

"We should be careful with it. This wing holds too much beauty..." Crowley whispers.

Aziraphale smiles compassionately and does a few comforting circles with his hand on Crowley’s back, eyes still on the golden wing.

"I kept it because I thought that somehow...I could reattach it. Heal her but...," he points to the piles and the cluttered worktable, "10 months and nothing. Absolutely nothing. Apparently, nobody thought that demons deserve to be healed." He inhales sharply, sensing his own growing frustration. "I think it is unfair. Incredibly so. Everyone deserves an opportunity for help."

The angel then rests his head on Crowley’s shoulder.

"And you have no idea what she wants to do with it? Speaking of which, was there anything else she wanted?"

The demon presses his cheek against the angel's head, breathing out the air of bitterness and salt: "But She decided that we do not deserve an opportunity for help. Let the damned rot. Oh well...holy water. That's all she requested."

Aziraphale grits his teeth in disapproval: "You and your holy water..." He caresses Crowley’s jawline and then gives his cheek a quick kiss. "I am going to take it. Take the wing. It is heavy but portable. There are gloves too on the table if you think you need them."

After that, Aziraphale fixes his waistcoat and walks towards the shelf that has so many bottles and knick-knacks on it that it would be impossible to find anything from there, but apparently Aziraphale has his own system and he reaches out for the thing that he is looking for.

A crystal carafe that holds a colourless liquid.

  
The holy water.

He grabs the handle of the carafe but then stops, holding it in his hand. His back is facing Crowley. There is a very well hidden note of anxiousness when he speaks: "When you talked privately, did she...Do you have to go back to Hell?"

Crowley comes closer to the wing and is about to take it into his hands, but stops...

"Ah... About going back to Hell...Hah..." he lifts his face and looks at Aziraphale's back. There is no point in hiding the truth from him. "I'm not gonna lie to you... Yes, I do. I have a task from her. She said it will take some time but after all that... I can come back and I can stay. No more of Hell's business for me. I would be free." The last part has a note of something that neither of them are able to pinpoint, but they both know that this tone and these words mean a lot.

Crowley takes a step closer to Aziraphale as he explains his current situation: "But right now I need to do as she says. She needs to go back to Hell and for that, she needs an arm and a leg. There are Maisters, excellent in their craft and she trusted me to get those prosthetics for her. Hell needs its queen and rather soon."

"I understand, I do..." a chuckle and then...was there also a sniffle? "You know...she is very lucky to have you. Taking care of her comes so naturally to you."

Aziraphale takes the carafe and turns around, looking as he usually does.

"Alright then...shall we?" he asks and Crowley nods. The demon carefully picks up the wing. It is indeed a bit heavy but not too much. The perfect weight. The thought of it makes the demon gulp down a lump.

Aziraphale shows the way out and leaves the room, holding the carafe firmly in his grasp, not allowing a single drop to drip.

He enters Lucifer’s bedroom and goes to stand in the corner to allow Crowley better access.

Lucifer opens her eyes when she hears them entering and straightens up from her short nap.

"Did you..." she stops speaking upon seeing Crowley with her gold. Her whole body freezes. For a couple of long seconds, there isn't a single reaction from her.

Then she barely whispers: "Bring it to me."

Crowley comes closer to her with the golden wing in his hands. He places it gently on her lap and then stands next to Aziraphale.

"Aziraphale brought the holy water... What else I... we can do?" the demon inquires looking at Aziraphale.

Aziraphale looks back at Crowley with equal expectancy. They wait for her to say or do something.

She doesn’t.

Her gaze is glued on her wing. The connection between her and the wing seems so intimate that Aziraphale feels like an outsider. Like he shouldn’t see the exchange between the gold and the owner.

Yet, he isn’t able to move. To leave. It is too entrancing.

Her chest rises and falls in calming rhythm. Then she lifts her hand and very slowly, very elegantly touches the tips of her fingers onto the surface of one of her feathers. A visible shiver runs across her body.

Then she lowers the rest of her hand to the wing, feeling it under her palm. Her hand caresses the feathers, absorbing the sensation of the wing forever into her memory.

She reaches for the furthest part of her wing, her arm stretched in front of her as far as it goes. Then she lowers herself onto her wing, sinking her face and upper body deep into the feathers. This action exposes her back with one side thoroughly bandaged and the other with a beautiful golden wing, gradually bending open behind her into its full glory.

Suddenly, something miraculous happens.

The wings... _both_ of her wings start to brighten up and shimmer. There is a glow coming from deep within. Every single feather radiates the incomprehensible beauty of God’s creation.

Aziraphale’s eyes enlarge in awe. He has never seen anything like that.

She used to be God’s favourite.

The Morningstar.

The Lightbringer.

She truly has had been all that. She still could be.

The scene stays like that for a short while.

A painting of a figure -maybe an angel, maybe a demon- embracing her loss, saying...

Farewell.

Then she gradually rolls herself up, pulling her hand back into her lap.

Her face is calm but both of her cheeks are wet and there are tears flowing.

The shimmer of her wings disappear and they become as they were before.

She looks without emotion at her wing. The fingers spread wide on the wing and the look intensifies.

The feathers start to tremble and off they come. The detached feathers run up her arm and drape around her injured shoulder. They bind together, creating an unusual fabric. With each new feather, the cloth lengthens and becomes more tailored.

Finally, when the final feather leaves, the cloth has become a masterfully made cape, flowing down from her shoulder.

Perfect fit for the ruler of Hell. Perfect match for her another wing.

On her lap, however, is a wing of only flesh and bone. One final look and she pushes it off her lap.

It falls on the floor with an ugly thump and thanks to the awkward angle, it looks even more wretched.

She stares ahead of herself with tears still on her face. Her voice is emotionless as she commands:

"Destroy it."

Aziraphale is still dumbfounded by the things he just witnessed. It takes him a while to register anything.

When he does, he looks at the ugly thing on the floor, gasping a little when he finally realises what the holy water is for.

He does not know what to do. What is the right thing; the moral thing.

He looks at Crowley, begging for answers.

The demon makes quick eye contact with Aziraphale and grits his teeth. He knows what he needs to do, but everything about him protests against it. He hisses like a snake and approaches the ugly remains of Lucifer's wing. He lifts it up, trying to not look at it.

"I'll do it."

Crowley takes the wing into the room where he had slept for the past 10 months. Months when Lucifer...

Another hiss and he returns back to Aziraphale and Lucifer. Crowley places his hand on the carafe, taking it gently from the angel's hold.

His gaze doesn't leave Aziraphale's. His eyes telling the angel to stay with Lucifer and let the demon do what must be done. When Crowley is sure that the carafe is safely in his hands, he smiles reassuringly and leaves the room. Leaves before the angel notices how false the smile had been.

Crowley is back in the room, staring at the gold laying in front of his feet. He just stares at it for a few seconds before the gravity of his task hit him.

"Oh G... Why me..." he laments in desperation. He looks at the holy water and cringes. Now or never. Simple hand movement and the holy water slowly pours down on the wing.

This shouldn't be Lucifer's wing.

This should be...

The demon growls, stopping himself from thinking any further. It is not worth it and it wouldn't change anything.

The wing is gone now. Forever. The only thing that remains is a puddle and the vine of smoke that smells after the fire. He looks at the puddle on the floor and sniffles. He puts the empty carafe on the table and leaves the place of execution behind.

He does not enter Lucifer's bedroom. Instead, he stands next to the entrance, feeling how fear is building up in his stomach. How will she react? He is the one who destroyed her wing... Her brother, because of whom she has lost her limbs. Her wing.

Aziraphale had come closer to Lucifer, deciding to stand next to her bed. He had said nothing, but he tried to spread a little bit of calming essence inside the room. To help even a little.

That is how Crowley finds them. 

Aziraphale looks Crowley over, to see if he had by accident harmed himself. Thankfully, he hadn’t.

Angel smiles weakly and returns his gaze to Lucifer. They all look at her, waiting for her reaction.

Aziraphale is slightly surprised; he can’t sense any of her emotions. So they have no idea what she might do.

She stares in front of her; her body just existing.

Then slowly she turns her gaze onto Crowley. Her eyes are not here, not really. And her mouth moves. The tone is neutral, not supposed to offer any emotional weight.

But...

Somehow...

It moulds into the most poisonous dagger. Sharpest in the universe. Three fatal words and The Serpent is stabbed.

"Go to Hell."


	9. Freddie Mercury’s Vocals And Clever Lyrics Should Always Fit The Situation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Go to Hell” has so many interpretation possibilities when said by The Devil, who can give a taste of Hell on Earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little shorter. Works as a transition.
> 
> Lucifer is reaching her emotional limit. Let’s see how it goes!

* * *

  
"Lucifer..."

Crowley doesn't finish his sentence, sadness painting all of his features. She blames him. She blames him for everything

Lucifer had forgotten how much of a part the wing had been of her. How much it had mattered. The feathers are on her shoulder, but it is not the same. It can never be compared with the real one. Full one. Attached one.

She had loved them. She had loved them so much.

Flying, it had been freedom for her. A way for her to be who she was without obligations. Without The Devil, without The Morningstar.

Just her.

And now it has been taken from her.

She doesn’t hate Crowley. She isn’t capable of that. She sees his sadness and she hates to see it on him.

Her breathing deepens, becoming faster.

She hates it. She hates it. She hates it. She hates it. She hates it.

Her face turns into a grimace.

It comes. It comes with hate, depravity and pain.

She loathes it. She loathes herself. She loathes everything. She loathes...

Her, the one above.

Lucifer is almost hyperventilating and she shakes. Her eyes flash between the green and flames. Her knuckles are white.

Unfortunately, the receiver of the loathing is her little brother and she is even more hateful.

It boils, it pulses, it comes up-up-up, ready to set her off.

Anger.

Fury.

Aziraphale suddenly senses the upcoming destruction. He can’t do anything to calm her down and with fear, he rushes to Crowley, coming to stand in front of him, pushing him away from the room.

"Crowley! Back away! She is going to..." and then it happens.

Perfectly timed with several loud lightning bolts from the outside she yells.

She yells and screams and bellows on top of her lungs, the whole room shaking.

Her eyes are in flame and she trashes around, being full of hate and rage.

It all has crashed down on her. And she continues on bellowing and yelling. The agony and loudness of it are deafening.

The shadows in the room are in rage alongside with her and they maniacally swarm around, making it into a chaos.

Her lungs are dying yet she still screams as loudly and as painfully as ever.

The tears are flowing so uncontrollably that her eyes have started to swell. She beats with her fist against the bed, each smack threatening to break the bed in half.

It is terrifying.

Aziraphale has fallen on the floor with Crowley thanks to the blow of the force. He stares at this horrid sight. He feels how his insides are decaying and crushing. The agony... it eats him up.

Crowley takes Aziraphale's face into his hands, making the angel look into his eyes. He needs to be sure that Aziraphale is fine. There is fear in the angel's eyes and his body is cramped and shaking. Crowley knows...feels... what his sister's fury is doing to Aziraphale.

Crowley groans and presses his forehead against the angel's shoulder. He can feel how her pain and rage fill-up his body. It is almost impossible to breathe in.

"Fuck..." The Serpent hisses and stands up, leaving Aziraphale on the floor. He needs to stop her. He doesn't know how...

And suddenly he has an idea.

Somehow he enters the room again. His eyes are glowing dangerously and his whole appearance is suddenly different. Some places are covered in scales and his aura is... Cold. Dangerous. Calm...

"Lucifer."

He comes closer to her and flinches as another wave of agony runs through him. But that doesn't stop him. He ignores the chaotic shadows that begin to take on the more physical form in this dark room.

"Stop it. You are noisy," he almost gnarls when she continues to scream. He breathes in, closing his eyes and cracking his neck to prepare himself.

"SILENCE." his voice is terrifyingly calm yet so loud and deep. It is not human. It is something mighty and of power.

Everything stills.

Not a single movement in the bookshop.

Aziraphale almost faints thanks to the relief he feels after her horrible emotional explosion. He lays on the floor. His limbs are all so tired. He has never seen or heard Crowley like this before.

Neither has she.

She stares back at him with her eyes wide...or as wide as the swollen surroundings allow her.

She stares for another moment.

There is no sound. Only a lip movement but it is readable nonetheless: "Help..."

And then her body gives out and she falls. She is still conscious, but her body is refusing any cooperation, being completely exhausted. The shadows retreat into their normal state.

Crowley sits next to her and places his hand on her forehead: "It's okay. You need to rest... Do not think about anything. Try to sleep. Please."

He smiles and places a gentle kiss on her temple. Lucifer does not move or respond. Crowley keeps stroking her hair and suddenly he hisses and searches the room with his serpentine gaze: "Discord. I know you are here... Take care of her. It may sound weird, considering our past, but I trust you..."

A flash and Discord appears as a man. He is calm; stoic even. When he reaches Crowley, he stops and speaks. There is no menace, no sneer. Just a genuine request and advice: "Go to Hell. Bring her the arm and leg. Help her to heal. Leave. I will stay. I will not let any harm come to anyone in this building."

Another stroke on her hair and Crowley stands up, nodding. Then he moves next to Aziraphale and sits on the floor, taking the other's still shaking hand gently into his.

" 'Ziraphale..." he whispers, trying to offer him apologies through his actions such as gently caressing the angel's hand.

Meanwhile, Discord addresses both Aziraphale and Crowley: "Please forgive her. She is a mess."

He cradles her in his arms like she weighs nothing and climbs with her onto the bed, adjusting her more comfortably in his embrace as they lay down.

He starts whispering things to her as he holds her against his chest close to his heart. His hand occasionally strokes her hair and face and that incredibly gently.

At first, it seems that Discord gets no response from her, but then he chuckles quietly and kisses her eyes.

What is their conversation about, is a mystery to both the angel and the demon.

When Crowley’s hand comes to hold Aziraphale's, the angel finds a small amount of energy to squeeze back.

He grunts: "After this...after all this has ended we are going on a vacation. A bloody long one."

The demon laughs quietly, bringing Aziraphale's hand close to his lips, and places a quick kiss on his knuckles.

"Yesss... A bloody long one. Only the two of us."

He becomes serious and stands up, pulling Aziraphale onto his feet as well: "Angel... I'm sorry, but I need to go. After that, however, we will go on a vacation. I promise you."

Aziraphale wants to protest, to throw his arms around Crowley and never let go.

But that wouldn't solve the problem. That wouldn't help.

He sighs regrettably and his arm wraps around Crowley’s waist, guiding him reluctantly to the main door. These are the last few minutes when he can hold Crowley.

He stops and turns to look at him.

Incredible.

Crowley is just the most incredible being Aziraphale has ever met.

The angel can’t let him go without giving him anything that would ensure his safety and return. He can’t bless Crowley but he can...

A smile and then his fingers come to draw symbols on Crowley’s temples and forehead: "May you always be protected...be safe...be well."

He seals each of the marks with a kiss and then cups Crowley's cheeks: "You must return to me. I will not give you any other option. You will return and you will be unharmed. And that is final. Now...before you go...kiss me. Kiss me like there is no tomorrow."

"I will return to you unharmed... or as you would say... in a tip-top condition."

The demon laughs and places his hands on Aziraphale's waist, bringing the other closer to himself. A gentle smile plays on his lips as he looks into his partner's eyes. Then his gaze falls on Aziraphale's lips.

"My love..." Crowley murmurs.

One of his hands comes to rest on the angel's cheek. He leans closer, brushing lips against lips. It is a quick and gentle kiss... one... two... three... Crowley deepens it, caressing Aziraphale's cheekbone with his thumb.

The demon was the first one who broke the kiss, gently biting the angel's lower lip and chuckling: "You're so sweet... I need to leave, but I can't. Oh... you're doing crazy things to me, angel..." he doesn't even manage to finish his sentence when he already kisses his angel again. Aziraphale had wanted it like there is no tomorrow, but Crowley makes sure that the tomorrow will come.

Because he wants to feel the touch of those lips again.

"Now... Goodbye. We'll see each other soon, my love."

One last stroke to the angel's soft cheekbone and the demon is gone with his Bentley, Freddie Mercury rocking in it as always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Freddie Mercury’s vocals can sing any song you imagine, but this song is always a delight.
> 
> [ “Love Me Like There’s No Tomorrow”](https://youtu.be/H1Wbu_AF2e4)
> 
> Bentley plays Queen, but sometimes...on a very rare occasion...it is also willing to play the band members’ solos.


	10. Helping The Devil To Take A First Step Should Naturally Be A Team Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley returns from his trip to Hell and gives Lucifer exactly what she needs and perhaps a little bit more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry for the delay, but I had a very busy week. 
> 
> Two chapters (including this one) more to go and we have finished the journey with book one. Don’t worry! Second book is written. It just needs editing and perhaps some additional material.
> 
> Things I would say about this particular chapter is that I appreciate some good multi-character interactions and further emotional bonding.
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

Aziraphale groans when he hears a knock on his bookshop’s front door. Why can’t this person take a hint?

For the past few days, this preacher has been very intent on trying to convert Aziraphale to support his cause in...well, the angel isn't even entirely sure what the cause is about.

Enough is enough.

Aziraphale slams the book closed, pushes up his reading glasses on the bridge of his nose and marches up to the door.

An aggressive sigh and he pulls the door open.

"Sir! I have told you already that I am not inter..." he doesn’t manage to finish his sentence. The person knocking is not the preacher. It is someone a million times more welcome.

Aziraphale clutches the book to his chest when he looks through the sunglasses the other person is wearing.

He doesn’t say anything for a while but his face softens and a lovely smile forms on his lips: "Hello..."

"Hello, Aziraphale," the demon smiles, coming closer to the angel. He carefully takes off the reading glasses that Aziraphale does not really need. "Already calling me 'Sir' ? Wow...that is an upgrade." He chuckles and opens up his arms, inviting the angel in: "Can't I have at least a hug from my love?"

Aziraphale tries to say something cheeky but he is way too glad to see him. Only a moment and he throws his arms around Crowley, hugging the demon close to himself.

He buries his face into Crowley’s shoulder, wanting to take in the familiar scent of The Serpent.

He mumbles into the shoulder: "I...missed you...so much."

He carefully lifts his head and takes a small step back to look at Crowley: "You have changed..." Crowley is wearing a black turtleneck with a fashionable dark wool coat. The trousers are as tight as ever but that is not the more notable change. Yet again it is the hair. Now it is the cut that Leonardo Dicaprio used to wear back in the 90s.

Aziraphale regards the hair and gently runs his fingers through it.

"That hairstyle...it suits you," he finally concludes.

Then he proceeds to touch the rest of the face, tracing the lines with his fingertips as if wanting to make sure Crowley is indeed real and here, standing in front of the angel

"Do not worry, angel. It is me, Crowley... I'm real and alive," the demon laughs and hugs his angel tighter and closer to his chest. I missed you too... So much..."

"How are you?"

"I'm good... How are you, Aziraphale?"

Crowley gently takes Aziraphale's face into his hands and brings him closer, placing a quick kiss on the angel's forehead. Crowley can't hold his smile back, looking into the familiar eyes of greenish-brown as he flirts: "My... you are still as beautiful as I remember. Time has not managed to steal even an ounce of your handsomeness."

Aziraphale rolls his eyes but a gradually appearing blush can be seen on his cheeks regardless: "Oh, you old flatterer..." he chuckles, "I am doing well. Especially now that you are here, my dearest."

With a flash of a bright smile, he comes even closer to Crowley, putting his hands on Crowley's shoulders. One of the hands still holds the book.

"I see that the protection marks have been useful," Aziraphale glances at the demon's lips: "Let’s see if they are still as fine..."

The angel leans closer, eyes already half-closed. Then something else catches his attention from the corner of the eye and he pulls back, almost stepping out of Crowley's embrace completely.

There is a small pile of cases. Six to be exact. Embroidered with gold and black.

"Are these what I think they are?" he inquires.

"Look at what love does to us, angel... Two months and already starving for each other," the demon chuckles and without looking behind his back adds, "Indeed they are... and..." he takes out some papers from his coat's inner pocket, "Also this."

"What is this? The report?"

Aziraphale already walks away towards the Bentley. The pile is tied on the car’s roof. He inspects it closer.

The cases look heavy and valuable, seemingly made out of black alabaster. The flashes of heat brush against his skin when he leans in too close. It even stings a little. He draws back, looking at Crowley: "Is it just Hell or did you cast a protection charm on them?"

"Yes, that's the report alright. She wanted to know everything. Like... everything. I spent half of the time writing this," he makes an annoyed face and shakes his shoulders to release the tension that he still has. Then he notices Azraphale's inquiry.

"Oh... Yes, that's a protection charm alright."

The demon snaps his fingers to remove the charm and shakes his hand as if he got burnt.

"Nasty thing... If it was Hell then you wouldn't be standing so close to it, angel. I used the charm only because...well, it keeps the contents safe for the travel and helps avoid snoopers."

Aziraphale nods: "Right, of course...It is quite impressive. Not many can do it properly and then it is lacking, and what use is half-baked protection, don’t you agree?

He then looks at Crowley and asks, miracling his book back on his coffee table and proceeding to roll up his sleeves, baring his strong forearms.

"Now, may I help you carry these cases?"

Crowley strides closer to Bentley and taps the cases: "You can take these... I'll take the others. Do not worry. They won't harm you."

A pleased smile appears on the demon’s face when his gaze stays a bit longer on the angel's forearms. However, when the demon notices himself staring, he mumbles something incoherent under his breath and to escape the situation, he decides to take some of the cases into his hands.

Aziraphale takes the rest of the cases and with seemingly a lot less effort than Crowley. He passes Crowley in a rather demonstrative manner, grinning smugly and...is he even flexing his muscles while carrying the baggage?

Oh, Aziraphale had noticed the gaze on his forearms. He liked that. Teasing the demon has always been fun. Besides, Aziraphale is rather proud of himself. He had started to workout. Not nearly at the levels of Gabriel, but something for himself.

Well, one of the reasons was that he had wanted to up his game and excel further in... sexual performance to match with Crowley’s many admirable talents. The angel had experience and knowledge, however, there were things he wished he was able to do, but his own body had become the obstacle. He thought that it was about time to change it a little.

The other thing he had started to do again was fencing and practising various other sword fighting styles. The latest events had made him want to be more prepared if any catastrophe was supposed to fall upon them.

Aziraphale would have followed Crowley to the deepest depths of Hell in order to save him, if he hadn’t come back. Thankfully, he had returned and looked as handsome as ever.

They walk into the bookshop and continue to make their way towards Lucifer’s bedroom that is still there.

"Before...I thought that you were somebody else — a preacher, to be exact — and he has been pestering me for these past few days. I was planning to even use a little miracle to make him go away once and for all because he couldn’t take a hint; he just couldn’t," Aziraphale whines and Crowley notices how pleased he is to hear his angel vent. The demon cannot help himself, but to steal yet another look of the other's strong forearms. He is glad to see Aziraphale more confident in himself.

"Other than that it has been rather quiet. Discord has kept his promise," there is an affectionate chuckle coming from Aziraphale. "They are inseparable. He does his all to amuse her...and before you wonder, I am not stalking. I am just...keeping an eye on things."

They have made it to her door. A few gentle knocks and they enter. Upon entering, Crowley immediately notices the change in the air and breathes it in.

The energy in the room is much lighter and more serene than two months ago. There is less death, pain and sorrow. A lot less...but still a little there, albeit well hidden.

Lucifer is sitting on her bed, pillows still supporting her. Her long golden hair is shining and the darkness and sickliness of her body has retreated almost fully. Her golden cape rests on her bedside chair and her wing is for the first time hidden again.

Her gaze is sly and playful and directed to her partner.

The latter is hovering in midair above the bed, laying on his stomach. He looks like a man and his slender gloved fingers stroke his beard in thought.

His eyes are on the game. A game of chess. He makes his move. Lucifer grins and leans closer, knocking the bishop down with her knight. She states: "You should be more careful. Every step is more lethal than the previous one. Would not want to win so effortlessly."

Discord crosses his arms and snaps back: "Oh please! It is part of my very clever tactic. You will not even know what hits you."

"Well, you are doing a great job with boasting about it," she chortles before whispering teasingly, "I think you just lost the element of surprise."

He leans in, their noses brushing.

"Tactic, my darling..." he whispers in return and then closes the distance between them.

After Discord pulls away, tracing with his tongue a second longer, he turns and greets the intruders: "Well, hello there! Look whose back and with a new style, nonetheless."

It takes Lucifer a moment longer to look at her brother. The tiniest flash of shame and then with a charming smile of her own, he meets Crowley, looking more herself than she had throughout the past year. She glances at his hair: "Suits you. Now...how was your mission? Did you do as I asked? Report to me."

As Crowley makes eye contact with his sister, a small smile appears on his lips.

"Well thank you... Everyone needs a change once in a while." He takes out the papers from his inner pocket. "I wrote you a detailed report so you can read it later. Nothing has changed much. Demons are doing their job. Lord Beelzebub has been keeping them on the line. Typical professionalism on Their part. Hastur... not in sight at the moment. Probably conjuring up more plans on how to foment more vileness in the name of Hell. Never liked him. Never will. But in conclusion... you should be able to return without having to deal with too much of the nasty inconveniences."

He nods at the cases in his and the angel's hands: "They are here. Ready to use. The highest quality...just as you asked."

Lucifer reaches out for the report, Discord’s hand coming to support her so she doesn’t fall face flat to the ground.

She takes it from Crowley's fingers and flips it through, suddenly stopping on one of the paragraphs. Her brow furrows and she reads through it carefully. Her face darkens and demonic flames flash in her eyes for a second. Then a rather wicked grin forms on her mouth and she chuckles in a low voice.

She has always been smart and perceptive. She notices things that others don’t. There is something brewing, something rather sinister against her and the rest of the authority. Hell is still Hell.

Never boring.

And she is glad for that in her own way.

She puts the report aside and smiles as if she saw nothing out of the ordinary: "A very detailed report. I like that."

Then she looks at the alabaster cases and her breathing halts as she stills.

Here they are.

Her new ones.

A quick glance to her limbless hip and shoulder and then she focuses again on the set.

She blinks a few times, breathes in and straightens herself up, prepared to see and accept what is inside.

She clears her voice: "Ahem... Bring the ones for this form. I want to open the cases myself."

Crowley comes closer with the cases that are meant for her current form. He places them next to her on the bed.

"Here they are. I hope you like them..." he smiles and then returns to Aziraphale, gently brushing his fingers against the angel's forearms. There is a shiver coming from both parties.

"You can place the other cases there..."Crowley points towards the bedside table with his head.

Aziraphale does as Crowley suggests and then returns to his side. He takes Crowley's hand, warms it a little with a couple of caresses and then lifts it up to place a kiss on the demon's knuckles.

Aziraphale hums and his eyebrows rise in surprise as he slowly lifts his lips from Crowley’s skin, simultaneously lowering the hand and intertwining their fingers.

How could things have changed so drastically? For centuries they had to tiptoe and beat around the bush. Everything was a secret, a risk.

One wrong move and everyone would have known.

Fear has controlled most of Aziraphale's life. Fear of...everything. Fear of Heaven, of Hell, of Armageddon...of himself...of...

God.

And now?

He just showed his affections towards Crowley in front of _THE_ Devil and, among others, Lord of Chaos.

For Heav...For Hel... For somebody’s sake, they even had sex in front of the latter!

Although, he had come uninvited and caught them off guard but still...

Aziraphale was bold. Really bold. And he does not understand why.

All that he has feared still exists. What has changed then?

A quick glance at Crowley and he knows.

He knows what had changed.

It is so obvious that he laughs to himself...

All his fears...had simply come true.

It was all done. All experienced and suffered through: the end of the world, the trial, the Divine Wrath, Lucifer's rage, death, torture...

There was nothing left for him to fear anymore.

And he squeezes Crowley’s hand tighter in his.

Maybe there was just one more fear.

One that, Aziraphale knows, will never go away. It will always stay but he can live with that.

Lucifer stares at the alabaster case. She feels the case as if making sure that it indeed is what it is. The case is sealed. It is heavy.

Discord’s hand comes next to hers, the sides brushing against each other. She swallows. Her fingers ready to unseal. Discord also prepares his fingers and whispers into her ear: "We can do it together..."

She nods and they unseal it, lifting the cover with a certain effort.

Inside there is a heavy dark red velvet draping. The desired object is wrapped inside of it.

She hesitates and then delicately starts unwrapping until it is revealed.

She stares at it, her eyes wide and intense, searching for any mistakes. Looking to see if it is indeed right, flawless.

Her new arm.

There are two Maisters in Hell. One is the most skilled blacksmith and the other a talented experimentalist, who often combines demonic powers with the advanced version of alchemy.

The second Maister is considered to be one of the creepiest beings in all of Hell. Many don't even consider him a demon anymore because of how deformed and deranged he is. He has a tendency to test his projects on himself first and that has left its marks on him.

Lucifer, however, doesn't fear him. She finds him and his experiments fascinating and useful. She has given him some rules in order to not let his mania get out of hand. So far he has followed the rules and in return, he has her support.

This arm is created by both of them. The blacksmith’s meticulous craftsmanship has made the design both powerful and practical. She traces her fingers over the surface. The material is a strange type of metal: it is smooth and hard but also a little elastic, making it more flexible than any usual metal.

The colour of the arm is dark silver that changes its tone depending on the light. The surface has a few refined engravings, giving the arm a more elegant look.

Her fingers finish their journey at the connection point. A curved blade of metal is going to cover her shoulder joint, keeping the prosthetic in place.

However, this is not what makes the arm functional. It is the dozen little sharp needles that will be pressed into her body, intending to be connected with her nerves.

Oh, yes...this is not just a static prosthetic, but a fully functioning arm. It will probably not work as well as the real thing, but it will work just enough to be useful.

Discord carefully lifts the arm from the case, allowing himself to inspect it from every angle alongside with Lucifer. She is very fastidious in her observation. He meanwhile admires the masterpiece: "My...truly a fine work of art. Almost like an armour. How does it go on exactly?"

Lucifer sighs as she finishes her inspection: "Painfully..."

She turns to Crowley, starting to unwrap her shoulder: "You know how to do it. Help me...please."

The bandages fall from her shoulder after she has struggled with them for a while, revealing raw skin that has healed rather well, but there are still deep scars and mended parts to be seen. Her gaze is intense.

"I am ready."

The other demon, meanwhile, hums and gently squeezes the angel's hand. Then he frees his hand from the other's hold and places it around Aziraphale's waist. He smiles, leaning closer to his partner's ear and whispers: "I won't leave you, my love. I am here to stay."

Crowley puts his hand on the angel's cheek and wants to place a kiss on his lips, but Lucifer's words interrupt him. He breathes out in annoyance: "Yes..."

He comes closer to her and takes the new arm from Discord's hold and prepares it for connecting.

"Ready? May be a bit painful at first..."

Lucifer scolds Crowley: "Oh, don’t make those faces at me, Paulo Stella. You can snog your angel latAAAAH!"

She yells for a second as Crowley pushes the arm into her shoulder and needles connect with her nerves. She bites her tongue, waiting for the sharp pain to subside and for her sight to return.

It finally does and then she tastes blood in her mouth.

"Shit," she mumbles.

Slender fingers take hold of her chin and turn her face towards the owner.

"I can fix that..." Discord smiles and he kisses her, slipping his own tongue in and healing hers. A little exploration with the curing tendencies and he pulls away. He then dramatically flips out his handkerchief and tenderly cleans her face from any blood.

"Now..." he looks pleased with his handiwork, "charming."

He turns to look at her newly attached arm.

She does too, her eyes pouring into the thing attached to her shoulder. She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t do anything. Discord shifts his eyes quizzically to Crowley, wanting him to do something. To say something.

Anything to make that unnerving silence go away.

Crowley looks at Discord and nods, furrowing his eyebrows. What should he say or do? He does not know. He looks at Lucifer and her arm.

"Oh, yeah... And then you're the one who does that with your..." a quick glance towards Discord, "partner."

She blinks and very slowly turns her head towards Crowley, crooking it to her side, now resembling an owl with a broken neck.

"Do you want me to test my new hand on you? Because I think you rather beg for that. Hmmmmmm?"

Her metal fingers twitch a little. She doesn’t notice.

Crowley notices the twitch and an evil smile appears on his lips.

"Do I? I don't think so. Maybe the Lord of Chaos wants to be the first one?"

She squints her eyes and leans closer to Crowley: "Sometimes...tsk...sometimes I am really tempted to send you back Upstairs."

Lucifer's fingers almost form a fist and she still does not notice.

Meanwhile, her brother's smile grows wider and wider.

"Really? I wonder why... Maybe that's because I'm always walking in during your oh so hot make-out sessions?"

She slightly shakes her head as her own grin starts to grow and a mischievous flare appears in her green eyes. Their faces are now very close, measuring each other up in terms of wittiness. At that moment they look awfully similar.

Almost like twins.

She teases while playing the innocent: "Oh, that is hardly the thing to send anyone away for. We are not a secret. Maybe your low tolerance for that type of action is due to lack of your attendance in recent Hell's orgies. You were quite a name back in the early days. There are still some who miss your various talents."

That piece of information grabs someone's attention.

"Wait a minute!" Aziraphale calls from the other side of the room and comes to stand next to Crowley. His face is the one of shock when he looks between the siblings, wanting an answer from whoever is willing to provide it. "Excuse me, orgies?!"

Lucifer’s own eyes widen in an overdramatized surprise: "You never told him? My-my someone is in trouble..."

She chuckles and Discord bursts into fits of laughter. Aziraphale puts his hands on his hips and turns to look at Crowley, demanding elaboration: "Crowley...why have I never heard of this?"

"I...uh..." the demon has found himself in a tight spot. Nervously he glances at Aziraphale, trying to squirm out of his position, but his tongue appears to be failing him again: "I thought you knew...You know...That's logical... Demons and their typical stuff. Tempting... Orgies..." he gives up and returns his gaze to Lucifer. He almost growls at her in frustration: "Why did you mention that? That was a long time ago..."

Lucifer grins widely with pleasure: "Because I like to have the final word. Besides I don’t think there is a single person in this room who does not love your face when it has the colour of the Forbidden Fruit."

She places both of her hands on Crowley’s cheeks, squishing them gently.

"You are so adorable in red! And that pout, " she smushes his face with further affection, "...so cute!"

"And you are always trying to make me blush..." Crowley grumbles under his breath, cheeks indeed flushing redder with each passing second.

Then she gasps when she finally notices that she can move her metal hand. She tests it again, moving every finger one by one. The fingers are rather clumsy, but in general, they do as she wants.

"I can move them..." she whispers. She lifts her new arm slightly from the elbow, "I can move it." She turns to look at Crowley with a genuine smile and a child-like excitement: "I can use both of my hands, Crowley."

Crowley looks at her hand and then face. A sincere smile appears on his lips and he nods: "Yes, you can, my dear sister. Everything is done so you can feel comfortable while using them..."

Her hands slide down his face onto his shoulders, kneading the fabric of his jacket. At least...one is. The other is trying.

"I cannot feel much anything with this arm. Only the connection. But it is good enough."

Her gaze shifts onto the other alabaster case and she cringes. She turns back to Crowley, sighing due to an upcoming inconvenience, already silently asking him for another favour: "Leg..."

The demon just nods and then takes out the leg from the other case and makes eye contact with Lucifer to offer her his support: Okay... One...Two... Three... Here we go"

While Crowley had been busy getting her leg, she had unwrapped the bandages on her hip. This time using both of her hands. The prosthetic is cumbersome, but on the whole, it does its job rather well.

The scars and mends on her hip are very similar to the ones on her shoulder, maybe a little wider.

It is still going to hurt. She snaps her real fingers and a thick piece of cloth appears. She puts it in between her teeth, helping her to avoid another bloody bite.

Crowley's countdown and blinding sharp sensation of pain attacks her as the leg is pushed into her hip.

She groans loudly, biting down hard on her cloth, as she falls on her back, gripping her blanket so hard that her knuckles turn white.

Slowly she gets her eyesight back and the pain becomes more tolerable. She rips the cloth out of her mouth and makes a face while complaining: "Thankfully, I did not have to give birth to Adam. I would not have had the energy or patience for that. Being a cripple is so tiresome..."

She laughs, running her hand across her face that is a little sweaty thanks to her body’s efforts: "And now I need to learn how to walk again. Just like a child."

Crowley offers her his hand and smiles. A smile that gets more threatening and persuasive when he addresses the other two beings: "We can help you with that. Right, Discord and Aziraphale? You want to help."

Discord rolls his eyes: "Whatever The Devil’s brother says..."

His tone may have been sarcastic but the rest of him is prepared to be genuinely helpful.

Meanwhile, Aziraphale becomes more enthusiastic, however, he is not going to let Crowley off the hook so easily in regards to orgies. He just postpones the topic for some other time.

"Of course we will help! I have even read a book about it. Now...since there are three of us — which is perfect — we each have our own role. Two for each arm and one for the finishing point," the angel teaches them.

The Devil mumbles without humour: "And now we have an expert... Great." a sigh. "Alright. Let’s do this."

Lucifer pulls herself up to sit, using Crowley's hand. She is dizzy for a few seconds and then her mind clears.

"Now..."Discord jumps on his feet and rearranges his jacket, "I think I should be the final destination since I am the one who keeps her most motivated and to whom it is worth coming to." He strides to the other side of the room, then turns smoothly around, facing the trio with a wide grin. "Quite a reason for a walk, no?"

She giggles at his silly performance: "Wishful thinking, Discord."

Then she takes a tight hold of both the angel’s and the demon’s firm arm, ready to use them as her only support. She looks up at Crowley, asking in genuine concern: "You won’t let me fall, right?"

Crowley laughs, looking at his dear sister and offering encouragement that goes into a much deeper level than their current situation: "No, I won't. This time it won't happen. Enough talking... Time to make the first steps! It almost feels like I'm some kind of a father..."

Aziraphale adds smugly: "We have already seen how well you can raise children. You truly are good at taking care of people." The last part was said as a sincere compliment.

Then suddenly he remembers who else is in the room and he coughs.

"Right... try to stand."

Lucifer shifts her gaze between them, trying to pick up on the exact meaning of the words without the context.Then she inhales and pulls herself to stand.

She already bumbles and the only reason why she didn’t fall face flat, was the strong grip of her brother and his angel.

After a while standing on one spot, Aziraphale tries to verbally nudge her to move: "Standing up was great but now it is time to take the first step. Lift one of your legs - I recommend the prosthetic - and place it a little further in front of yourself. Then do it again with..."

"I know how to walk!" she snaps at him, wanting Aziraphale to shut up. She looks at her feet, focusing on them.

She mumbles, this time attempting to convince herself, "I know how to walk..."

Lucifer looks up again and meets Discord's surprisingly supportive eyes and a smile. The corner of her mouth turns upwards. He might have not been as wrong about being a motivation for her as she had initially thought.

She lifts her metal foot off the ground and places it further away in front of her. That she manages. When her real leg takes a step and lands, she staggers and her knee almost gives out.

And then she slowly continues on, each step becoming more confident and natural. Her hip is still rather sensitive but the ability to move makes it worth it.

Suddenly they stop, a little over half a distance walked through already, Discord being almost reachable.

"Why did we stop?" she asks.

Aziraphale makes eye contact with Crowley, nodding to him and then starts loosening his grip on her. Crowley is doing exactly the same.

"What are you doing?"

She then understands their train of thought and she wants to protest.

"No. Nonono..." Lucifer shakes her head, "I can’t do this alone! I am not yet ready." She holds tighter onto their arms: "I cannot walk on my own. Don’t make me."

She knows, deep down, that she needs to do it on her own but she still refuses to let go of her support team.

"You are ready to do this alone. We won't let you fall if something goes wrong...You can do this," Crowley says as he lets go of her hand and moves behind her, ready to catch her if need be. He smiles at Aziraphale

Aziraphale lets go of her too and smiles back at Crowley.

Meanwhile, she groans, being very displeased with her situation. Her posture is hunched and tense, resembling an old turtle.

"You are so going to pay for this..." The Devil mutters.

Another inhale and she slides her foot a bit further away, not yet wanting to take a step. She brings her other foot suit.

Then she tries to lift her foot and that goes well, but the balance has gone off and she isn't able to hold herself up anymore. She begins to fall backwards.

The first one who reacts is Crowley, who immediately appears behind her back and supports her by placing one of his hands on her waist.

"No falling. Be careful..."

The blonde demon hisses at his face: "You are the one who insisted on me walking...And now I WILL bloody walk!"

With a sharp turn of her head, she locks eyes with her goal, who is grinning widely, and straightens herself up with pride.

The next step she takes is bold and she staggers but this time manages to remain standing. This small victory gives her some confidence and she takes another step...

And another...

And another.

Her eyes are shining brightly with joy the better she gets with each step. She does not look as elegant as she used to, but with practice, it could be possible again.

Discord himself can't hide the pride from his face and he opens his arms when there are only two steps for her to take.

On the final step her real leg, which has not stood up or walked for over a year, tires and refuses to cooperate any longer. 

But it doesn’t matter. She has reached her goal, arms wrapping around her and lifting her off the ground before the leg gives out.

She herself wraps her arms around Discord’s neck and hugs him close to her, burying her face into his shoulder.

She mumbles: "I walked..."

He gently rocks her in his arms and strokes her hair with one of his hands: "You did, my darling, and you will do it again."

Lucifer places her hand on his cheek to look at him adoringly.

She opens her mouth to say something. Something truly important. Something she has never said to him before...but she doesn’t and smiles instead.

He smiles back and carefully puts her down again. This time she stands.

A stroke of her hand against Discord’s cheek and she turns around, his hand resting on her waist.

She looks at the angel and then her brother, her eyes shimmering.

"Did you see me? Did you see me, Paulo Stella?"

With arms open wide she takes another step closer to him. Her face is so bright with joy that she looks almost angelic.

Another step. Arms still open, waiting for him.

"Yes, of course, I saw you, Morningstar. You're doing great. I'm proud of you," Crowley comes closer to her and gives her a hug, placing his head on her shoulder, "I'm so proud..."

Then he looks towards Aziraphale and gives him a genuine smile.

"I think we forgot about our angel, " he whispers to his sister.

She hugs Crowley tightly and when he mentions the angel she turns to look at Aziraphale. She releases herself from her brother’s embrace and stands in front of the angel.

A pause for thought.

And then she speaks: "Ever since I learnt about you I have always thought that you would make a great demon, and what kind of a Devil would I be if I don’t try to steal an angel every now and then. You have enormous potential and more competence is always welcome in Hell.

So, the offer stays if you wish to take it."

She already senses Crowley’s disapproval at the back of her neck. She smiles. She has not finished yet.

"However..." a quick glance to Crowley, "there has appeared a new side of things. Never before have I seen such dedication and genuine kindness. For a year you have taken care of me and that after I had tried to kill you and you have tolerated him, " points at Discord, whose annoyed "Hey!" can be heard, "even though he was an intruder and not a very polite guest." She chuckles. "You even have put up with my destructive temper tantrums.

One could argue that you did it all for Crowley but...there were things that he would have never think of and you did them nonetheless.

You did them because it is natural for you. Because you believe in doing them."

Suddenly Satan laughs to herself and then looks at Aziraphale again: "What a funny thing you are...so full of conflicts... on one side you could do the most menacing things that even my worst demons could not think of....and then....you show such unfathomable sense of kindness that would put Heaven to shame... maybe Earth is the most right place for you.

Usually, I am far better with words but I guess life has taken its toll on me." She winks. "I try to fix that. In conclusion....what my point is..." and at that moment she resembles so much of Crowley. The mannerisms, the gaze - it all screams Crowley. She takes hold of Aziraphale’s hands and looks deep into his eyes with gratitude: "Thank you! For everything."

Aziraphale stares back dumbfounded. He hears her words but it all seems too much for his brain to comprehend. When she finishes he doesn’t blink or say anything.

Finally, something settles in and he manages to smile at her and squeeze her hands back: "No need to thank me. Crowley did half the job."

"I know that but without you, both of us would most likely be dead. You know him..." Aziraphale and Lucifer are both looking at Crowley with affection, "he can be so reckless sometimes."

Aziraphale nods in agreement: "Oh, YES he can...Idoubt he writes even about half the questionable and dangerous things he has done."

She blinks in playful surprise: "Really? And I thought he was thorough in his reports..."

And then the angel and The Devil giggle like two schoolgirls, happy about their found comradeship.

Discord nonchalantly strides next to the ginger and rests his arm on Crowley’s shoulder: "Who would have thought that your angel was betraying you to your sister? So much for that, eh?"  
  


The demon sighs dramatically: "Oh no... My heart is broken. He betrayed me. The love of my life betrayed me... I don't know if I can stand this heartbreak. Oh, great Lord of Chaos..." Crowley starts to slowly fall onto his knees, hands clutching the other's jacket. "I think I'm dying... Please... end my suffering."

"Oh, hush now. You are not in one of Shakespeare’s tragedies, Crowley," Aziraphale reprimands The Serpent’s overdramatized performance yet he smiles as Lucifer chuckles. Lucifer then lets go of the angel’s hands and walks away with a limp, looking around, searching for something.

"Apparently there are no mirrors in this room," she comments.

Discord snaps his fingers and indeed, a mirror appears on the wall. Lucifer makes her way in front of it and leans closer to inspect her reflection.

"Oh my..."

She touches her face and hips and turns from side to side, looking at herself from every angle. She is frail and boney. There are dark bruises around the connection points of her prosthetics. The metal limbs seem too heavy on her body. She stares at herself intensely, trying to find more flaws in her appearance.

"Maybe it was for the better if we didn't have one before. I look as if I had a rough date with the four Horsemen of the Apocalypse and still owed them some, " she chuckles at her miserable corporation.

Then she tilts her head and turns it from side to side. She hums and her green eyes measure and analyze her body and think about the possibilities.

"Today...today I feel...black..." a quick side glance at her cape and smirk forms on her lips, "and gold."

She closes her eyes and rolls back her head. She stretches out her arms as if she was visiting a tailor's boutique and starts kneading with her real fingers. From the depths of the room the shadows crawl. And they crawl and wrap and slither tightly around her body, forming a shimmering fabric of pitch black. Some of the shadows mask her face.

Her long golden hair begins to braid itself. The braided locks come up to her head and form a complicated crown.

The shadows on her body settle and dissolve from her face.

The green eyes fly open and she looks straight at herself in the mirror.

Then she turns around, showcasing her new look: the long black dress of the finest fabric; the makeup that brings out all her natural beauty and empowering it, and finally the regal crown of her braided hair.

She looks at all of them expectantly: "Well, what do you think?"

"You look gorgeous, Lucifer." Crowley smiles while he looks at Lucifer's new outfit that he fully approves of. "It suits you... but... one thing is missing."

He snaps his fingers and a beautiful set of accessories appears on her neck and ears, making the look more complete and grand. He squints his eyes, feeling proud as he chirps: "That's better. I think you are ready."

Discord strokes his chin in thought.

"Hmmm..." a grin appears, "not quite." 

He stretches out his right hand and with his other starts twirling over it. A melted gold swarms between the gap between his hands and it starts moulding into a shape.

A sharp pull of his hand and the object is ready.

A crown of pure gold.

He holds it gracefully between his fingers and strides behind her, lifting it above her head.

"The queen needs her crown."

He places it on her head, fitting it perfectly between her braids. Then he sways to the left and with a smooth movement takes her cape and drapes it over her shoulder, completing the outfit.

Lucifer looks indeed like the Queen of All Hell.

  
And finally there is Aziraphale, holding something dear to Lucifer.

"I believe this belongs to you," the angel says and in his hand is the cane with the silver eagle head.

The queen’s eyes shine even brighter when her most valuable possession is returned to her.

Her metal fingers lock around the handle and she nods to Aziraphale with gratitude.

A deep inhale.

_This...feels right_.

"I trust I am ready to go?" she asks from Discord with cockiness after her short moment of relishing. The Spirit grins and tenderly takes her real wrist between his fingers and brings it closer to his face.

"You are, my darling..." and with that, he places a kiss on the back of her hand. She smiles at him and caresses his lips with her fingers after he is done.

Then she turns back to Crowley and Aziraphale. She walks out of Discord’s hold and comes to her brother. She looks over his face and touches his forehead and temples with her real hand.

"Your angel has done a great job with the protection marks. They are unusually strong."

She turns her head to Aziraphale and orders with all seriousness: "Take care of him. Be his guardian angel. Otherwise, I will not hesitate to end you."

Lucifer does not let go of Aziraphale’s gaze until he nods with equal seriousness and promises without a single intent on breaking the promise: "I will."

A demonic flash in her eyes and she returns to normal, bringing her brother into her embrace. She again stands tall so that Crowley’s face perfectly fits into the crook of her neck.

"And you...you are only allowed to get into trouble that you can get out of. No more foolishness." She strokes his hair, holding him tightly to herself. "And you will take care of yourself and let him do the same. Is that clear?"

"Oh please.... do not act like I'm a small child. I know what I'm doing," comes an annoyed answer from the demon, but soon he relaxes in her embrace and returns the hug.

"I will take care of myself and let him do the same. I promise you. You know what? I want you to promise me one thing as well, Lucifer."

Crowley steps away and takes her face into his hands: "Lucifer... please... I beg you. Be happy. Once in a while. Let him treat you well. Forget about being a demon. Forget about your responsibilities. That is not all who you are. You know what I mean."

Then he chuckles and gives her the warmest hug he could possibly give her. He has missed his sister. So much and he takes out everything he can from every second that he has not The Devil but Lucifer Morningstar in his arms.

Lucifer freezes for a moment, and then her arms wrap around him once more. Her eyes fill with tears again and she tries to blink them away.

She is moved by his words and controlling her emotions has become quite hard lately. She hides her face in his hair, hoping to cover her vulnerability. To not show how much these words mean to her. How important they are.

When she thinks she is in control again she lifts her face from the ginger locks and leans into his ear to whisper words that she has never in all her life uttered before. Her voice is soft, proper for such confession:

"Crowley...Raphael...I...I love you. So very much."

A quick peck on his cheek and she backs away, not giving Crowley a chance to react. She smiles as the last of her brushes hair from his face.

She then turns around and meets with Discord, who once again has changed into his beastly form. Her hands come to cradle his face as she asks: "Will you take me to Hell?"

He smiles and his talons wrap around her waist as he purrs: "If that is the queen's wish. I haven't been there in a while. Could use some fun. I could pester your most despicable demons or have a little chat with a few sinners...Ooh, I like the sound of that...anyway...I would find myself something to occupy my time with."

She chuckles and strokes his face before letting go and giving the other couple one last gaze. A pause and then...

"Divertiti in vacanza. Ciao! 1"

A cheeky wink from her; the snap of a tail from Discord and gone they are.

* * *

  1. “Have fun on a vacation. Bye!” — in Italian. Italy is one of the countries that always makes you start dreaming about a vacation and travelling. Even when you are occult or ethereal.




	11. Exactly How It Should Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley are finally alone. Now it is time for some activities they have missed and some conversations they have not yet had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter might venture into slight E territory, so be warned.
> 
> There are some important conversations as well.
> 
> Time for some Aziraphale and Crowley softness.

* * *

The bookshop is strangely silent. There are no peculiar and wild auras anymore. Aziraphale hates to admit it, but he had gotten used to these presences and now that they are gone, it feels rather empty. Even the alabaster cases were taken.

It is just him and Crowley.

Speaking of Crowley, Aziraphale comes closer to him, stopping by his side. He looks at him with slight concern, the demon’s aura being too ambiguous to read: "Are you alright?"

"She has never said those words... never..." Crowley mutters more to himself than to Aziraphale. Then he takes a deep breath, trying to subdue the overwhelmingness of his emotions. Otherwise this revelation would be too much for him.

Right now...he wants something a little more comprehensible.

He chuckles loudly, this time addressing Aziraphale: "Well... that was a ride. Of course, I am, angel. Do not worry..."

The demon places a soft kiss on the angel's cheekbone and wraps his arms around him.

"Finally, we're alone. How about... vacanza, my love?"

Aziraphale lifts his eyebrow, putting his hands on Crowley’s waist: "Vacanza? Stai pensando all' Italia?"1

"Sì."

Aziraphale brings Crowley closer to him, ready to finally get something he has wanted ever since his demon returned. But as fate will have it, another obstacle peeks out from underneath Crowley’s new coat hem.

"Cos'è questo? 2" Aziraphale asks as he slips his hand in, taking the thing out. It is an envelope. He could swear that it wasn’t there before. He begins to open it but stops.

"May I open it?"

Crowley appears to be equally confused by the envelope in the angel's hand: "What's this? Of course, you can open it..."

Aziraphale opens the envelope so neatly that only an angel could do that. Or rather this one in particular. He lifts out the contents and gasps, turning them around and showing them to Crowley.

"La Scala..."

There are two pairs of tickets. One pair for the opera and another for the ballet. Aziraphale melts in Crowley’s arms.

"When was the last time we went to the opera? Or to see a ballet, for that matter? They are playing “La Cenerentola”. Haven’t heard that in a long while. And they are having a ballet gala. Oh, Crowley..." Aziraphale throws his arms around the demon’s neck and almost begs him, "Please...take me to Italy! I want to indulge in the sun of the Mediterranean region, in the culture and food....AND WINE! Oh, the wine that is most divine! And YOU! The most wondrous of them all and I want you..."

Suddenly the angel blushes, feeling slightly embarrassed by his overflowing joy.

"My apologies..." he smiles shyly and avoids eye contact with Crowley, "I got carried away. I must look quite like a desperate fool."

  
  


"There is nothing to apologize for, angel. When was the last time we visited Italy? At least one of us? That's my point... I can't remember it either."

The demon hugs the angel closer to himself and whispers against his lips: "We're going to Italy and we are going to... enjoy it. Right?"

There is seduction in Crowley's pronunciation. In his intonation there lays a temptation.

"Mhm..." and Aziraphale refuses to wait any longer. He pulls Crowley into a passionate kiss. He is greedy, wanting to get compensation for those two missing months.

Oh, that Serpent is evil. Making Aziraphale so dependent, so hungry for his affections and touches. So full of desire.

He can only hope that he does the same thing for the demon. That would give Aziraphale immense satisfaction.

His hand is tugging on Crowley’s hair as his other is still draped around his neck. He smiles and slides his tongue over Crowley’s lips when he finally decides to have mercy on the poor demon, who is panting by now.

He furrows his brow when a sudden thought occurs to him: "Crowley...be honest with me...am I really that short? Lucifer is a head taller than you and Discord is almost a head taller than her. Am I really that short compared to everyone?"

Oh, how he has missed those lips and touches from Aziraphale. It has felt like an eternity for him without them. One thing that had motivated him to finish his work in Hell was the image of Aziraphale waiting for him with his arms wide open. Of course, his sister had been his motivation as well, but it was the thought of Aziraphale and his love that kept him focused.

So when the angel moves away, the demon almost growls in frustration: "What... wh... angel, is that really the only thing that interests you right now? No, you're not that short. Two of us are almost the same height...more or less...okay, I am a bit taller, but it doesn't matter! And anyway, these two are just strange."

Aziraphale laughs at Crowley’s comment: "Haha. I suppose they are. I already started worrying."

Then he hooks his fingers behind Crowley’s sunglasses and gently lifts them on top of his head. The eyes of The Serpent stare back at him and he smiles: "My...you look even lovelier. The change has done you good, my dearest."

He places his hands on Crowley’s face and tenderly traces the lines, and from where his fingertips leave his lips continue to caress. Somewhere on Crowley’s jawline, Aziraphale asks: "I was wondering...perhaps I should change too? For the past few thousand years, I have looked more or less the same. How would you feel if I..." he kisses the corner of the demon's mouth and his hand strokes Crowley’s jaw, "would grow a beard?"

"Lovelier? You're joking, right? Maybe you wanted to say that I'm even more handsome..." Crowley chuckles and nuzzles against the angel's hand. "That's your decision, angel. You can do whatever you want with your body. You would still be beautiful. And handsome."

Suddenly a thought comes into the ginger's mind and he squints his eyes.

"Or perhaps you want me to grow a beard, hm?" he murmurs.

Aziraphale’s smile is smug when he hums. He looks at his thumb that is now caressing Crowley’s chin.

"Well...I can’t deny that the thought has crossed my mind. How my imagination has seen the potential of that." He sighs and then shifts his gaze to Crowley’s eyes. "But then I remember that catastrophe that you had on your chin during Elizabethan area and whatever was that horrendous thing under your nose during the 80s. So you see my dilemma here?"

Crowley laughs when he is reminded of the more notable disasters that have been on his face throughout the years. Sometimes...on a very rare occasion... fashion worked against him and made him look.... stupid and utterly ridiculous. Still, he tries to defend himself: "Hey... That was in the past. I mean... That was in "style" back then."

Suddenly the demon turns his voice into a seductive whisper: "I can try out something more dignified, yet stylish and maybe even... sexy. But you with a beard would also be something new to me. Do you want to change so badly? How about clothes? Something... Italian... classy yet relaxed."

  
"Are you tempting me again? Because, unfortunately, that is working. Quite well actually."

"Oh, yes I am, angel. Didn't you know that I specialize in temptation? Well, if you didn't then now you do."

Aziraphale fixes the hems of Crowley’s jacket. "Italian you say? Hmmm..." his hands come to rest on Crowley’s chest. He thinks a bit while smoothing over the fabric. Then he smirks to himself.

"Oh, I think I got it!" Aziraphale lifts up his finger, "But...you won’t see it until we are there. I must keep something for the surprise. "

Then he slides his arms around Crowley’s waist and pulls him very close to himself. Aziraphale’s face comes to touch Crowley’s when he whispers: "However...there is a little something I have been working on and I am really keen on showing it to you. If you want to see it, of course."

A smug grin appears on Crowley's face and he places his hands on the angel's cheeks: "Can't wait to see it, mi amore. Ah... I forgot to mention...I already noticed one thing about you today."

Slowly he slides his hands on the angel's strong forearms and squeezes them gently, feeling the muscles underneath his touch.

"You were working out or something while I was away. Am I correct? Is this what you wanted to show me?"

Aziraphale doesn’t say anything. Only a wide grin appears on his face and a slight shiver runs across his body when Crowley squeezes his forearms.

Without a warning, he sweeps Crowley into his arms and carries him proudly to another room that had not existed before Crowley had left for Hell.

It is a small but lovely room. It is cosy with a fireplace and a window that lets in the most beautiful sunlight. There is obviously a small bookshelf on one wall; an armchair with a reading lamp; a beautiful patterned carpet and a bed with the softest of blankets, several pillows and space for two.

Aziraphale holds onto Crowley in his arms. He is a bit nervous which is evident in the slight quiver in his voice: "I have been working out that is true, but I also have worked on this." He pauses. "This bookshop...it has always been my sanctuary...my place...but in truth, it is as much mine as it is yours and I wanted you... I wanted you to have your own place. A nook you can claim as your own. That is why I want to gift it to you. I want you to have a place to retreat to whenever you visit. Because to me, it is not simply my bookshop anymore...It is ours. Has been for a while now and I want you to have a piece of it. Do whatever you want. This is yours... I hope you like it."

Crowley looks in awe at the room that he has been gifted, resembling so much of a child who has finally gotten a present he has wanted for so long.

"Oh my... This is wonderful, Aziraphale. I like it. No-no-no... That's not what I meant. I wanted to say that I love it. I love it so much, Aziraphale."

He returns his gaze back to the angel and smiles, pressing his forehead against his.

"Oh, Aziraphale...It is so cosy... It feels like a place where I want to be. A place meant for us. Our space. You have no idea how long I have been..." Crowley does not finish his sentence. There is no need. Instead, he snuggles against Aziraphale, feeling his warmth.

"I am glad that you love it, " Aziraphale whispers and he holds onto Crowley, closing his own eyes and just feels his touch against his forehead.

The window is open. Somewhere a nightingale sings. Perhaps in Berkeley Square.

He listens for a while, letting his senses relax. It is wonderful.

Then he starts walking and makes his way next to the bed. He gently places Crowley to sit on it and he himself remains standing. Asking those following questions are important to him. So are the answers.

"May I come? Do you want to share your bed and yourself with me or you would rather want to be alone now? I can wait, if this is what you want," the angel smiles gently.

Crowley smiles and takes the angel's hands into his, placing a soft kiss on each of them before looking up again: "Angel... No... Aziraphale...I want to share my bed with you. You're always welcome here. If I want to be alone I will tell you, my love. So... Come here because right now all I want is you..."

He pulls his partner towards himself, wrapping his arms around his torso and falling on the soft bed while pulling the angel with himself. He nuzzles into Aziraphale's hair and breathes in his scent of old books and cocoa.

"Mmm... Can't wait for our vacation, angel. Only two of us and Italy. And romantic sunsets... Mmm... I want you to wear a fedora. I bet you will look stunning."

Aziraphale nuzzles his face into Crowley’s neck and he smiles as he feels the other one in his hair. He chuckles when he hears Crowley mention a fedora.

"Hahaha. Hmmmmm...To be honest..." he lifts his face from Crowley’s embrace and rearranges himself more comfortably, looking down at the redhead, "perhaps it isn’t such a bad idea after all."

With his fingers he traces Crowley’s jawline, going back and forth with his movements.

"And perhaps you growing a beard is an exciting opportunity. Can’t wait."

He smiles as he leans in, touching his lips very tenderly onto Crowley’s. This time he wants it to be soft and gentle and loving. He wants to cherish Crowley in the tenderest of ways. Fill their love with softness.

Smoothly his legs slide to each side of Crowley’s hip and he comes to sit more rather than lay on him.

He snaps his fingers and their shoes and socks disappear. They are always a fuss to deal with.

His knees press a little tighter against Crowley and his hands slide up his face, cradling it with love. It is so dear to him. Every single part of Crowley. He lifts his lips slightly, pulling the demon’s lower lip gently along, before whispering: "My dearest...there is no-one else. Just you and me. Third time is the charm. In case too much time has passed, I kindly take it upon myself to remind you of my incredible adoration for you, if you don’t mind?"

The demon hums in pleasure and puts his hands on the angel's chest and then slowly slides them upwards, touching Aziraphale's neck and jawline: "Someone is peckish..." The demon winks at him and laughs softly. "You can take the lead, love."

He places a kiss on the angel's jawline and purrs against his skin: "I should be away more. I like how we are celebrating my returns."

Aziraphale’s tone becomes almost threatening: "Oh, don’t you dare! I am not letting you out of my sight anytime soon."

And as to illustrate his point he locks his legs around Crowley’s waist.

"Now that you are here, you are not going anywhere. I am done worrying about you. So, you are going to stay right..." he wraps his arms around Crowley’s body and leans so close again that their noses brush against each other, "here. Safe and loved."

Aziraphale kisses Crowley's nose before moving to his freckles and from there to the rest of his cheek, to his temple, to the forehead, to another temple, to cheek and from there finally back to his lips.

Funny. Aziraphale can never get enough of Crowley. Never. And the thought of it makes the angel feel warm inside.

A few of his instincts kick in when he realizes how much clothes there are on the demon and how little there is of Crowley underneath. How precious he really is. His little demon.

A tear of fabric and Aziraphale’s wings come into existence, wanting to wrap themselves around Crowley.

"My... you can't go against your instincts, angel. That's adorable," Crowley chuckles when he witnesses the proof of Aziraphale's angelicness appear in his sight.

Aziraphale, however, groans when he feels the air touch his feathers. He lifts himself from Crowley’s lips and turns to look at his wings, cringing.

"Why did they have to come out? They are disgusting, " he sighs, running his hand across his face, "I never learnt how to groom them properly. I just never got the hang of it and I am not that flexible, so there are many spots that I simply can’t reach. I mean look at them!"

He flutters the wings for a second, before grimacing and blushing in embarrassment.

"Actually, don’t look at them. It’s not worth it."

Aziraphale plucks out a really loose feather. It does look quite miserable and oily and his face falls.

"No. Don't you dare, Aziraphale! Your wings are gorgeous... I can... I can take care of them for you. If you will let me," the demon is fierce in protecting Aziraphale's wings from the insults, even from the very owner of those wings. To show his truth in his sincerity, Crowley lifts his hand and gently strokes the feathers that Aziraphale so dispises.

Aziraphale observes Crowley’s hand movement on his wing which he can already feel is oily and uncomfortable. Then he looks at Crowley with his puppy eyes, which he hasn’t done in quite a while and mumbles: "Would you? If you don’t think of it as too much of an inconvenient process. Here."

He snaps his fingers and a pair of gloves appear in his hands. "If you are sure, then you can put these on. I know it’s quite repulsive to touch them when they are..." the angel looks at his wings disapprovingly, "whatever they are."

Aziraphale almost shoves the gloves at Crowley and turns around, grabbing for one of the pillows and hugging it close to his chest. He is pouting and embarrassed but opens his wings more in case Crowley is really willing to groom them.

The demon just looks at the angel for a few moments, gloves still in his hands.

"I don't need them," he notes gently, placing those gloves aside. His angel needs to feel good and he will do so. Crowley rids himself of the coat that he is still wearing and rolls up his sleeves to make the job easier. Having sat down behind Aziraphale, he ponders from where to start, because one thing is clear — these wings need some work. He is just not sure how much. Finally, he decides to start with the loose feathers.

"Please... relax," the demon requests when pulling on those feathers.

Aziraphale huffs and rests his head on a pillow, still looking like a grumpy turtle. With fluffy hair. However, he tries to relax his muscles and his wings fall onto the bed and into Crowley’s lap with a quiet thump.

"Sorry..."

Aziraphale nuzzles deeper into the pillow and just stares out of the window, waiting for Crowley to continue. Then he feels how Crowley’s hands gently sink into the surface layer of feathers and the angel shivers when the demon starts combing. There are many loose feathers. Too many. He feels how they come off with every comb.

He knew he was unskilled, but had he really allowed the situation to get this out of hand?

"Crowley...how hopeless is it?" Aziraphale whispers with growing worry.

"Hmmm..."

The demon stops his actions and tries to analyse the situation in front of him. Too many feathers have indeed come off way too easily and the texture is more greasy than it should be, but he wouldn't say that it is hopeless.

"Actually... It is not _that_ bad. I can fix the problem. But I need a bit of patience from you. It may take a while."

Aziraphale hums as a response and then closes his eyes, trusting himself into Crowley’s hands. This time the demon’s hands begin from the very root, the place where his wings are attached to his back, and he twitches when Crowley digs his fingers deep into the feathers.

His combs are firm and meticulous. He is precise. Aziraphale knows what Crowley is doing. Getting rid of all the old feathers, so that he would have a better place to work with. He moves along, using one hand to hold the wing still and another to comb and pull.

It is not pleasant but Aziraphale knows it is necessary in order to clean up his wings.

After a while, he is done with the first one and moves on to the other. At this point Aziraphale meditates, trying to not think of the miserable situation of his wings.

He hears his own heart pumping.

Pump-pump.

Pump-pump.

Pump-pump.

Then he almost jumps up, when there is strong kneading on his wing. It is quite unexpected. And then the angel groans both in pain and pleasure and he drowns his face deep into a pillow.

Crowley is doing a deep tissue massage on his wings and it is so needed. His wings relax fully.

He squeezes the pillow tighter, enjoying the massage.

When Crowley takes a small pause from massaging, he combs the feathers again, now much more gently and ruffles them, giving them more air to breathe and freedom to move. Then he bravely continues on, getting to every single muscle on Aziraphale’s wings. It is hard and tiring; the blond is grateful for Crowley’s efforts.

He already feels so much better and does not want the demon to stop.

After almost two hours and a gigantic pile of feathers, Crowley is finally pleased with the result of his work. He sighs and runs his hands through Aziraphale's feathers, making sure that they are as they should be.

He smiles when the texture is soft and clean. So white... so beautiful...Totally worth the ache in his hands and wrists.

"My... almost like fresh snow in the winter. They are gorgeous. Delightfully angelic."

The demon sits closer to the angel and places a quick kiss on the back of the other's neck. Then he chuckles and bites the skin there, quickly licking the "tortured" place.

"Wonderful," he whispers against his skin.

Aziraphale laughs and stretches behind him, taking hold of Crowley’s hands and bringing them to his chest, making Crowley hug him from behind. He looks at his wings and they are indeed pearl white and radiant. Aziraphale has not seen them like this in a long while and he smiles warmly. He probably can’t fly for a bit due to the lack of enough feathers, but the new and healthier ones will grow in place soon. He sighs and leans against Crowley, feeling his embrace from behind.

"Thank you! I honestly don’t know what would I do without you. How did you learn to groom so well? It always has seemed so hard to me. Especially when you have to do it on yourself."

"Well...Hell is not the most hygienical of places. Most of it at least. And as you know, I have never really been that eager to match Hell's typical standards. My wings are what remained, so I thought, why not to rebel some more and keep my wings even more pristine than any angel’s have ever been. I learnt how to groom in Heaven. Me and my siblings for example used to do it all the time. You need patience when grooming wings. It can get a bit... challenging. Especially if you have three pairs on your back. Trust me. You learn a couple of things then. But...it is nice. I like doing that," there is something nostalgic in his voice as he reminiscences on his past. Then he smiles and nuzzles his nose into the angel's soft hair and hums. "Is "thank you" the only thing that I get from you? I have to admit that I'm a bit disappointed."

Aziraphale shakes his head in playful annoyance: "Alright...you have earned it and I have craved for it."

He snaps his fingers and all their clothes disappear from them and are neatly folded on the armchair. So has disappeared the pile of plucked out feathers. Aziraphale intertwines his fingers with Crowley’s and then starts playing with them.

His freshly groomed wings are brushing against Crowley’s bare skin and Aziraphale snuggles even further against the demon behind his back.

"I thought we could skip this whole undressing part and just be with each other as we were first created." He throws his head onto Crowley’s shoulder in order to look him in the eye, still playing with the demon’s fingers. "What do you think, dearest? Or rather...What _are_ you thinking about? I am genuinely curious."

Crowley almost purrs when soft wings touch his bare skin. The angel is so warm, his whole body spreading the sense of life and comfort that is so desirable for the demon who is always cold. Who has always searched for warmth and all what is contained in this one particular soul in his arms...

In his Aziraphale, The Principality of The Eastern Gate.

"What I'm thinking about?" Crowley speaks when he realizes that he hadn't replied to his angel's question. Well, here is a delicious treat for Aziraphale and the ginger chuckles at the thought.

"Well... When you're asking such a question, I can't decide on one thing... Should I dirty talk to you or just say it like a normal person?"

He licks his lips and leans closer to the angel's neck, placing a couple of kisses there and then whispers into his ear.

"I'm thinking about... you loving me. Doing it the rough way at first. Making me a panting and a moaning mess. And then gently... Worshipping." He pauses to think and then ties the answer with a neat bow, "And later of course... cuddles. Cuddles is a must."

He has stopped being ashamed of this not so demonic thought. Aziraphale already knows that this demon's aftercare is always about love, tenderness and comfort.

The previously mentioned angel hums when Crowley’s lips touch his neck and after Crowley has finished his order, Aziraphale stops playing with the demon’s hands and falls deep into his own thoughts.

"I see..." he draws out, an idea forming in his head. "I see how it is."

His voice is a bit higher now.

"I have never done this in this form. Rarely have I ever used it..." and along with his voice, his body changes. The skin becomes softer, facial structure changes, becoming more...much more feminine, a waist creates itself, and breasts are also becoming part of Aziraphale. The hair lengthens considerably, the curly hair now falling over the shoulders, draping all the way to her lower back.

Aziraphale has become her.

Crowley has seen this form only once in his life. When she was the Lady of the Lake back in the Medieval times. Aziraphale remembers that meeting. He had caught her by surprise; still, she thought the meeting had gone rather well. She smiles when her transformation is finished and turns around on Crowley’s lap.

She brushes a strand of hair from her face and looks into serpentine eyes. Her voice is a beautiful soprano when she speaks: "I thought that maybe I could experiment. Maybe this form is able to satisfy your desires. I have a couple of ideas about how to please you. How to really please you."

She places her now more feminine and continuously beautiful hands on Crowley’s hips, stroking gently.

She then drops her gaze, a shy smile appearing on her face.

"Of course... only if you like it and want it..."

The demon stares in awe at the angel's new form. This is a big surprise for him. Throughout all these centuries he has seen Aziraphale as male-presenting. Well, at least it has always been the form that the angel has tended to lean towards the most. Crowley has seen him in other forms as well, but if he had to describe the angel's appearance, he would always describe a charming bastard bookshop owner with fine yet bit old-fashioned taste.

Depending on who is asking, he might add how handsome and fun he is, and how he has the most adorable wrinkles of laughter around his eyes and how those hands always know the best places to touch.

He wouldn't have told how much he loves everything about that angel. Perhaps only to the angel himself.

But the angel is now naked and her for the very first time she is sitting on Crowley's lap in this form. The demon just cannot stop staring at her like she is the eighth wonder of the world. To him she is. The only true wonder of the world.

"Oh my... Such indescribable beauty in front of me. I'm scared to even touch you."

Carefully he places his hands on her waist, gently stroking the skin that is now even softer and he sighs.

"It doesn't matter in which form you are, Aziraphale. The most important thing is that _you_ are with me. And _only_ you. No one else could possibly do. But a great choice. I haven't seen this form... for a long time."

The white dress sticking on a curvaceous body that stands in the water. The twilight and the gentle mist above the lake. The birds singing and the forest smelling after the fresh rain. And then the bright blue eyes that stare back at him as he lurks behind a bush.

Yes, he was lurking. It was not polite but he certainly does not have any regrets.

Crowley's hands move up, touching her soft skin and then he moves her hair away, exposing the skin on her neck.

"I want you, Aziraphale," he smiles and leans closer, attacking the skin on her neck with kisses and gentle bites.

Her hand comes instinctively into Crowley’s hair, slipping in between his locks, and she presses him even more against her neck.

Meanwhile, her other hand is gliding on Crowley’s arm that still holds her waist.

"I remember....the meeting. You were already a knight. I wasn’t. I got a new task and needed a new form. The year doesn’t matter," she closes her eyes when Crowley’s bites and kisses have reached her sensitive spots and her breathing becomes slower.

"Well, it was quite rude of you...spying on a lady, when she is bathing in the lake and preparing for a miracle. Thankfully, I was wearing a dress. It was quite lovely," then her hand slides down to the nape of his neck and she carefully tugs his hair, pulling him away from her skin. Aziraphale opens her eyes and makes Crowley look at them. They are a little bluer than usual and contrast with her pearl white wings and light blonde hair. Her voice becomes suggestive when a smile touches her fair lips: "However...I am rather interested..." she presses his hand with hers even more against her waist, "in knowing what did your wild imagination see..."

Her body comes to touch his torso as she moves even closer against him: "What did your imagination see underneath...the clothes? Am I what you imagined? Did you desire me back then?"

She licks her lips as she presses her thighs against his hips. She is now on Crowley’s eye level and her hand from her waist places itself on Crowley’s chest, fingers feeling the skin underneath.

She leans her face closer, eyes having taken on the colour blue completely. The following is supposed to be a question but it refuses to leave her mouth as such. It leaves as a request.

"...Desire me....because I....desire..." her lips are almost touching his, "I...desire...you."

"I wish you weren't wearing a dress that evening, angel. Such body..." he murmurs when she places her hand on his chest.

"You want to know? Oh... my imagination went wild, but the reality is much better. But back then... I wanted to touch you. Take that dress off of you. See all that my mind had conjured up. I wanted to see and feel your skin. This waist. Those hips," he looks deep into her blue eyes as each sweet and lustful word leaves his mouth, "I wanted you. I desired you."

His hands move down to her hips, pressing her closer to himself. A smug grin appears on his face as he feels the incredible heat of her body against him.

"Yesss... I desssire you. I have never sssstopped desssiring you."

"You are hissing, my dearest boy. I love that in this context," she giggles, then cups his face and pulls his mouth against hers. She flows and glides inside, again applying her angelic skills to strike the Serpent. She knows that he loves this.

The feeling of his hands on her hips, gripping slightly the more intensely she kisses him.

 _I... like that?_ — she hums at the thought.

Truth be told she is excited but also a little nervous. She has never made love to anybody as a woman. She hasn’t even lived much as a woman. She just never felt that deep connection with this form...

But today...

Today it felt right. She wanted to be her. She wants to be her.

But she is still a little scared; afraid that perhaps her body will somehow mess something up, something she would otherwise be good at. And yet there are so many things that she wants to experience and give as a woman. Most of them tend to involve Crowley.

Her hands are now gripping his shoulder and holding onto his back. Her angelic twists and tricks have risen the demon’s pulse and she feels his chest rise and fall against hers.

Then she turns her head in a sharp angle and she is almost upside down, planning on getting a better taste of Crowley’s upper lip. The grip of the demon’s hand tightens and she swallows down a sigh.

When she finally gives them a small break from the make out, she provokes him, playing a dangerous game with a lustful Serpent.

"My...Crowley...I sometimes feel that I am doing all the work. I would like it if I wouldn't always have to interact with a..." a smug twitch on her mouth corner and she throws in the ultimate provocation, thinking herself to be ready for consequences, "passive demon."

"Passive?" the demon asks as he lifts one of his eyebrows. This is an incredulous comment. There is complete seriousness on Crowley's face. Suddenly the corners of his lips turn up and he lets out a chuckle of disbelief.

"Really? You mean... I'm doing nothing? Oh my..."

There is a pause. He looks into her eyes, a dangerous smile playing on his lips.

"I see..."

And suddenly she is on her back, pressed against the bed with a growling Serpent above her. Kissing. Biting. Touching sensitive spots. Doing things to her that he had wanted to do on that evening when he saw her as The Lady of The Lake.

"Wait!" but it is too late. She has woken the bear or in this context a snake, a very dangerous one, The Devil’s own brother, and now she has to pay the price.

She was so sure that she was ready, that she knew what she will get herself into, but oh no! This is far from the truth. She had no idea.

There are new spots along with the old on her female body that make her react. So many sensations.

His fingers are searching out all those spots, dancing from one to another after he has made her shiver.

His lips and teeth are attacking her. There is no oxygen.

Only Crowley.

Everywhere is only Crowley.

Then his mouth has mercy on hers, lips almost red. And she is panting, finally getting a little bit of air in her lungs.

But Crowley is far from done. She feels his hands, teeth and lips making their way down her body, leaving behind a lot of marks.

Aziraphale is breathing heavily. She swallows a couple of times, trying to get a word or two out of her throat. It is incredibly hard for her. At last she manages to choke out breathlessly: "Crowley..."

His hands are gliding on her inner thighs, pulling them apart as he moves downwards.

"Please..." and then she loses all her ability to speak.

There is a reason this demon is known for his incredible tongue tricks.

And she feels it so well.

There is no resistance and no will left in her body.

Only intoxicated sensations and pleasure.

She submits to that pleasure, letting it overwhelm her.

She throws her head back, eyes closing and her back arching a little. There is tension in her legs, wanting to wrap themselves around Crowley, but he is keeping them apart, stroking them as his mouth is busy elsewhere.

And she moans. Moans deeply and breathlessly, not having any control over the sounds that escape from her.

Her wings are spread wide and they too flutter and have contractions of pleasure, moving alongside with her body’s rhythm.

And there is one more thing...

The wings glow bright and radiant, bringing a little bit of Heaven into this Earthly bedroom.

She tastes so good. Sweeter than her lips. This is the delicacy he can spend days indulging in. And this act does not only feed his desires but his ego as well. Each sound that escapes her, each attempt of wanting to wrap her legs around his neck, the overflow on his tongue — only makes all of his existence tingle with pride and satisfaction.

He has his angel and she is enjoying herself a lot.

After some time of "torturing" his love, he rests his cheek against her thigh and chuckles, having heard another sound that probably had wanted to be an actual word: "Sorry, I didn't hear you. What did you say?"

Aziraphale still trembles when her body notices a few seconds later that the demon and his tongue are not there anymore where they fitted so well. She lowers her back onto the bed and her legs become limp, only held up by Crowley.

She pants, trying to breathe properly. The words come out with a squeak: "Too soon."

A few more breaths and her voice normalizes. She looks at him through half-closed eye-lids. Her face is flushed red and sweat shimmers on her skin. She smiles weakly but with adoration when she mumbles: "You stopped too soon. I was almost there."

She stretches out her arm, motioning for him to come back up and closer to her face.

"Be careful with my wings! I don’t know if they would burn you and I can’t turn the glow down either. It is not within my control at the moment. So, please... be careful," she begs him.

Then she closes her eyes again, breathing. There is a note of disappointment in herself when she speaks again: "I am sorry...I am sorry that I haven’t given you enough...that I haven’t fully filled your request...I...for this body...you are the first. For her, you are the first and I don’t know exactly what I am doing...it is different, you know... so forgive me, if I do it wrong."

Crowley's heart melts at the angel's unwarranted self-consciousness: "Oh, angel... Please do not apologize."

He gently takes her face into his hands, making her look into his eyes.

"You are gorgeous. You're doing so good... So please enjoy. Let me be your guide to your new body," he purrs the last words and moves slowly down with a trail of quick kisses. He places one of the legs gently on his shoulder and bites a sensitive skin on the thigh.

"So delicious. Who knew that angels can be so sweet...and you know what, Aziraphale? You are the only feast that I ever need," he grins and then the next second he is back between her legs, showing what his tongue can do, happily devouring his angel.

Aziraphale’s hand comes into his hair and moves along as he makes his way back down again. She smiles appreciatively, her other hand resting on her heart which is beating like crazy. A shiver runs across her body when Crowley bites her thigh.

"You are too good. Too good to me..." her words melt into sighs when Crowley is back with his magic.

She loves him. Loves him so much that she is not ashamed of her reactions and how much she enjoys him and him doing both heavenly and demonic work on her body and soul.

She gasps loudly and shoots her eyes open. Did he just go even deeper?

_It is...it is..._ — she is not able to think properly and another, a much louder moan leaves her lips.

_So good..._

_Why is it so good?_

She tugs Crowley’s hair, fighting with herself. She wants to both push him even closer and to pull him away.

She knows if he continues his masterful work then she will end up as a complete mess and she isn’t really able to do anything for him.

And yet she is really tempted to let him continue. To let him take her to ecstasy.

She decides to go for the pull, although, it is immensely difficult.

And in between panting she manages to tell him: "Crowley...wait...please...stop."

The demon hums and then suddenly it turns into a hiss when his hair is being pulled by her.

"Yesss? What can I do for you, my queen?" he chuckles and licks his lips, looking at her inquisitively, "Did I go too far for the first time?"

"No...no..." she very weakly shakes her head and a small smile plays on her lips. She is still breathing heavily when she throws her arm over her eyes.

"You were perfect. Just...give me a moment...I...need it."

She tries to recollect herself from Crowley's advances. After a while, her breathing starts to normalize and she feels like she can function again. She chuckles tenderly and removes her arm from her eyes. They are still blue and perhaps even glowing a little. Her wings are too. She meets with Crowley's gaze and her hand that has remained in his hair begins to stroke it.

"I just don't think it is fair that I always take from you and use you for my own desires. It just does not feel...right. "

She pulls her legs from his hold and tries to sit up. It doesn't go so well and she falls back a couple of times, giggling at her lack of strength: "Who knew that a little tongue trick could take down a soldier?"

Then she finally manages to sit and she pulls her knees underneath her. Aziraphale feels her face, making sure that she looks more or less adequate before she interacts. Her long blonde hair is a bit of a mess, flowing over her shoulders both in front and in the back. A few strands have fallen in front of her face. She does not tuck them away. She looks deep into Crowley's serpentine eyes when she speaks: "I had to stop you because I would not have been able to give you anything after my ecstasy and believe me... to ecstasy you would have taken me."

"But I want to give," the angel climbs in front of the demon, putting her hands on his shoulders, "I want to give you whatever you desire. I want to please you. Let you know how much I love you," gives his lips a quick but sweet kiss.

"So I thought that I could try...to see...what she..." Aziraphale gestures to her body, "can do to you. And to me...how does it feel...when you are..." she licks her lips, sliding one of her hands onto his chest, "inside..."

She gently pushes him on his back and climbs on top of him, not yet making the contact, hovering above him. She wants to ask him first.

"May I try? And if you agree, you must tell me if you are uncomfortable or when I am doing it wrong." A chuckle as she feels his skin underneath her palm. "I may need your guidance."

She leans down and plants a really soft kiss on his cheekbone and she whispers into his ear: "I want to fly you to the moon and let you play among the stars..."

The demon laughs nervously and places one of his hands on her waist, giving it a light squeeze.

This offer...

This beautiful angel above him...

How could he possibly resist the irresistible?

"Yes... Yes, you can try. You're already making me go crazy... I will tell you if something is uncomfortable, but I highly doubt it. I highly doubt that uncomfortableness can even be a possibility with you," he whispers to her as his other hand comes up and strokes her cheek gently.

His eyes befall hers. They fall into the beauty of hers. Could he fall again? He had Fallen, fallen in love and now...he is about to fall into her.

"Your eyes. They look like sapphires. I want to fly to the moon while looking into them, angel."

The angel nuzzles against his palm, smiling happily: "Oh, you wily old Serpent..."

She turns away from him, staring at the fireplace. A wave of her hand and a cosy fire starts to breathe there. She glances back at Crowley, a mischievous sparkle in her glowing blue eyes: "An angel can light a fire too."

And she giggles, sounding like a small flock of birds chirping in the spring. The lovely smile stays when she brushes her hair out of her face and combs them over one of her shoulders. She stretches her wings and then they comfortably stay open wide behind her back. The white feathers are catching the light of the fire and that makes them seem so warm. The fire overall illuminates her from behind, giving an illusion of halo.

An angel of Heaven about to make love to a demon of Hell.

  
A poetry.

"Doubt thou the stars are fire;

Doubt the sun doth move;

Doubt truth to be a liar;"

She stops her speech and very gently lowers herself onto Crowley. She winces, searching for the right position and then she finds it. Her eyes fall closed and she sighs with tranquillity.

Only silence and the cracking of the wood in the fireplace. Even London is quiet, waiting for her words.

Her lips move and her words are like the purest of pearls. Incredibly honest and true. Soft like the idea of Heaven.

"But never doubt I love... 3"

She opens her eyes, gifting the gaze to him.

And then...she starts moving, gently and with care. She uses her ability, wanting to connect with Crowley's aura, wanting to find his rhythm. 

She continues, adjusting the tempo and strength with each movement. Her hands are spread on his chest and she tenderly slides them back and forth on his skin.

She smiles when she sees glimpses of Crowley's aura and she makes her movements deep and slow. Her hands on him glide higher towards his neck and face, caressing as she moves.

The deeper she does it the more she herself feels. She bites her lip as she feels everything becoming more sensitive. Her breathing starts to match her rhythm. Her hands touch his cheeks.

"How are you feeling, my dearest? Do you like it? Do you want it like this?"

The demon squeezes his eyes shut, trying to hold back all the noises that are trying to leave his lips. When her hands touch his cheeks, he opens his eyes that are consumed by the demonic gold and gives her a smile.

He opens his mouth to answer her, but no words are coming out. Instead, he chokes on his moan and he lifts his eyebrow, being surprised by his own reaction. His hands are on her body. Touching, feeling the perfect skin, trying to offer even an ounce of what she is making him feel.

A breathy laugh escapes from the demon's lips as he focuses his gaze on her, remembering that aside from a moan, he hasn't answered her: "How I am... feeling? I'm feeling..." he doesn't finish his sentence, moaning through his clenched teeth and the smile on his lips grows even more tender and wider.

"I think you can already see it. Please... Angel... Please, do not stop," the last words come out in a whisper as he takes her hand into his and places quick kisses all over her palm, "So good. My love... Angel..."

Aziraphale has always been too good for Crowley. He has always known it and now...when she is just so perfect and beautiful in everything she is and does, Crowley suddenly has a desire to cry. To cry about how lucky he is and how flawless she is to him. He tries to put into his kisses all the adoration and gratitude that he has for her.

This angel has nothing to be self-conscious about. She is good and Crowley does not want her to stop.

And she doesn't stop. She continues exactly as he wants. And it is good. She takes his hand and places it on her cheek, turning it carefully around in between her fingers. She caresses it, kisses it and admires it with her lips and fingers and cheek.

And then she gasps when there is an instinctive reply on Crowley's part. She squeezes his hand in order to try to hold onto her composure.

However, she doesn't stop and neither does he. She stares back at him, almost begging: "Crowley...you can't do this...you caaaaaaahh."

She too has to let out a breathless sigh. She presses his hand to her heart. Her head is thrown back again, trying to bring in as much air as is let out with her sighs and gasps.

She feels it deepen and deepen and she does not understand how.

Is there really so much of her to go inside?

Apparently, there is.

"Closer...closer..." she breathes out.

Then she pulls him up from his arm and brings him to her chest, not once stopping their movements. Her fingers dig deep into his hair, tugging it. Her thighs press against him, helping her to remain in place while enabling her to move.

She holds onto Crowley's face, wanting to see his reactions, wanting to show what he is doing to her, wanting to hear him moan.

"Vile demon you are..."

And then it's there.

The sensation.

The fruit of the build-up.

The ecstasy.

Her wings shine more brightly than ever before. Her eyes glow elektra blue. And the moan is the loudest and most satisfied she has made.

She hears a quiet rustle amongst another very loud moan. She sees his wings, unimaginably gorgeous, feels him tremble against her and knows that she herself is shaking as well.

"Angel..." he whispers, holding her close to his chest. He is still panting and shaking because of the ecstasy, because of his fantastic Aziraphale.

" 'Ngel..."

He presses his nose against her neck, breathing in her scent, and giggles like a fool from the feeling almost resembling of that being drunk or high. Extremely high.

"Crowley..." the murmur of his name is so tender that it is almost too sacred.

And to her it is.

There is nothing in this world more valuable to her than him.

And she is happy. So happy.

He wants to hold her. Feel more of her. Feel the Heaven that she is. The truest Heaven. Not the lie high above.

Slowly but without fear, his hands come to touch her wings. He is not afraid to touch them... and nothing happens. He is not burning. Instead, he feels the intense softness and warmth of the angel's feathers. It is just right. He hums and licks the sweaty skin on her neck, placing a quick kiss on the same spot.

For a moment Aziraphale tenses when Crowley touches her wings and she is ready to panic but then she can see that nothing happened.

That she didn't burn him.

That he can touch her.

Touch her as she is.

Her face lights up and it is almost brighter than her own wings.

"You can touch me! You can really touch me!" her eyes well up in joy and she throws her arms around him, hugging him tightly and pressing her cheek against his, trying to hold back her tears. "Thank you! Thank you for everything!"

And her wings bend to wrap around the two of them, to protect and to cherish.

"Aziraphale..." he hugs her closer and places his head on her shoulder, almost purring in pure joy, "I love you. You have to know it. I love you so much... You're the best in every way. I am...so grateful...for having you in my life and all I ask from you is that..." he lays down with her in his arms and hides his face in her chest, breathing in her scent of old books and cocoa, "Please... be with me."

The angel tries to blink away her tears, but a few still escape from her eyes. There is a reply to Crowley's words: "I know but I will never get tired of you saying it. I will always want to hear it, my dearest boy. Always."

She lets him pull her into his embrace, but before he has fully settled in, she scoots them both to the upper part of the bed. She properly lays down on the pillows, pulling Crowley and the big soft blanket along.

When she thinks she has settled in comfortably, Aziraphale has Crowley wrap his arms around her again and she pulls the blanket over both of them. Their wings meet and they caress each other with utter benevolence, black feathers loving the white ones and _vice versa_. She purrs like a lioness when she starts stroking Crowley's ginger hair. Aziraphale takes the demon's chin between her fingers and makes him look at her.

"I am not going anywhere. I think I would not be physically capable of departing from you. Although I have to say, the workout has paid off. I have a lot more stamina and my muscles are more useful. Hehe."

She slides a little further down, adjusting the pillows again. She meets Crowley and his eyes on the same level as hers. She looks into them, admiring the view. Now the fire illuminates him and she thinks the sight to be immensely beautiful. Her fingertips trace his jawline, the touch gentle as a butterfly's wing. She does that for a while and then guides him back to her chest.

They both stare at the fire, relaxing in each other's embrace. The flames are warm. The room is cosy and her companion is simply marvellous. Everything is perfect. Exactly how it should be.

Then suddenly she asks him a question that she has not yet voiced to him, but it is something that has been in her mind ever since the beginning, ever since their very first meeting: "What are you dreaming about? I mean..what is your most important dream? What is a dream that you would give anything to make true? I have always wanted to know that. Ever since the very beginning. I thought it was time for me to ask."

Crowley lets himself to be wrapped in the comfort of the angel's scent. His hand is gently stroking her skin. Everything is so good and relaxing that the idea of falling asleep in her arms becomes more tempting with each passing second.

Then he hears it. The question. The one he didn't expect at all. The one that requires some thinking.

"What I'm dreaming about? Hmmm..."

He lifts his head, looking into her eyes that are still so blue. The shadows of the fire swirl in them, making the eyes feel so alive.

One dream of his has come true and that dream is staring right back.

He figures out what the answer will be and he opens his mouth to confess, but then he notices something. A certain kind of shine, the glow of the angel's wings and suddenly he wants something else a whole lot more at this very moment.

He answers instead: "Creating stars. I'm ready to do almost anything... only to be able to create them again. Even just one..."

He lifts his hand and places it on her cheek, gently stroking it.

"I miss creating them. Nebulas...stars...galaxies...the fulfilment they gave me. The ability to create something of beauty and wonder is so enviable. I used to do that. I loved doing that."

She puts her hand on top of his. Aziraphale looks back at Crowley, seeing his sadness and feeling it in her heart. She has always wanted to make all his dreams come true. If only...

And then an idea comes to her and she smiles brightly, squeezing Crowley's hand lightly.

"Then create. This is our home, our own reality. We can do anything."

She sits up so suddenly that it surprises Crowley and the only reason he doesn't lose balance is that she holds onto him. Her elektra blue eyes shimmering with excitement.

"Create a star. For me. And if you need angelic energy for that then..." looks down for a second, eyeing her hand on his waist. Then she looks up at him with an incredibly soft gaze, "I'll help you. Teach me."

He sits up and places his hands on her cheeks, smiling: "Did you know that I love how you always want to make all my dreams come true?"

Then his hands slide down onto her arms and he takes her palms into his, bringing them close to his lips and placing a soft kiss into each of them.

"I'll teach you. Close your eyes. Think about something good and beautiful... Try to imagine how this star should look like.

And when you are ready...concentrate and softly blow into your palms..."

There is an encouraging smile on his lips as he squeezes her hands and then lets go to allow her to work.

He is so hopeful. So full of faith, because he wants to see it. His angel creating a star for the very first time. He remembers his first star and how special it had been. That star is gone now, but the image of it is still most vividly sealed into his mind's eye.

Aziraphale nods: "Alright..."

And she thinks. Thinks of the loveliest of things that she adores: the stories in the books, the wonderful artists she has met, the fairytale-esque gardens of the palaces, food and wine, music. She closes her eyes and concentrates, trying to imagine what all these things would look like if they were a star.

It seems quite chaotic, but she likes it and she blows into her palms.

She waits.

Nothing happens.

She opens one of her eyes and sees nothing.

Then she opens the other one too and looks at Crowley, a bit disappointed at her own efforts. He still smiles at her kindly, but Aziraphale does not fail to see the tiniest hint of sadness behind it.

She mutters: "I did exactly as you told, but nothing happened. What did I do wrong? Probably I am not just meant for star creating."

Suddenly she notices Crowley's freckles that have the golden shine to them thanks to the light of the fire and it dawns on her.

"Oh..."

A smile gradually creeps onto her lips and she closes her eyes once more, knowing exactly how to approach.

It is so much clearer. It makes so much more sense.

It has a life force.

And very softly she blows into her palms. This time she feels it. It is warm and alive like a little bird.

She smiles happily when she opens her eyes and looks down at her creation. It needs a few adjustments from the expert but she rather likes it.

It has the essence of her emotions and thoughts. It has something from her very core in it and that is what matters to her.

She presents it to Crowley opening up her palms.

The scene is unforgettable.

Her glowing white wings spread behind her back, her gorgeous blue eyes shining, her vulnerable body and two hands holding a little breathing and shining star, right in front of her chest.

The star might as well be her beating heart and for a second...

It really seems that way.

"Take it," she whispers to Crowley, bringing the star closer to him.

His lips carry the warm smile of adoration and he takes the star from her hands. Crowley shivers when the star is in his palms. It has been so long since he last held one.

His mind has forgotten what it all had felt like...

"This is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my life...I can feel..." he brings it closer to his chest and closes his eyes, trying to pinpoint everything that his senses allow him to recognize in this creation, "I can feel love. It is filled with your love and dedication... it's perfect."

Then he opens his eyes, touching the star with his fingers, letting more of the feeling settle in. With each passing second that he holds the star, his own love for it and it's creator grows and he whispers with tenderness: "So small...so fragile... Yet so gorgeous."

Aziraphale comes closer and looks at Crowley and then at the star. Her smile is so soft when she brushes a strand of hair from his face and tucks it behind his ear.

"I understood that I must use much stronger emotion in order to create one. Much more focused. So, I thought about us or rather..." she nuzzles against him, taking hold of his upper arm, "you. And love."

She looks down at the star and feels quite proud of it and herself, but also sees its struggle and how the light tries very hard not to dim out.

"I think it needs a little bit of your help."

"I'm not Raphael anymore... I don't think there is anything that I can do."

He furrows his eyebrows, looking at the star and then quickly glances at Aziraphale. He has an idea. An inclination, really.

"I want to try something. One thing..."

He brings the star closer to his lips and gives it a kiss, putting into it his love and something from his very essence. A small smile appears on his lips when the trembling stops and the star starts shining brightly in his hands. He gently strokes the star with his fingertips, love reflecting in his eyes. This little creation is something much greater than a symbolic gesture.

This is the manifestation of his and Aziraphale's love.

"Your name will be..." Crowley looks at Aziraphale and smiles to her, "Amor Noster. 4 A new star...Being protected by the brightest star in Leo's constellation."

"I think...it sounds wonderful."

Aziraphale's smile is blissful when she rests her head on Crowley's shoulder and gives her first star a gentle caress. There is a beautiful blush gracing her cheeks; a curtesy of Crowley's dedication to her.

She closes her eyes and kisses his neck before whispering: "I hope it brought you a little bit closer to your dream."

"Thank you, my love," he places a kiss on her forehead. Then he turns to the star in his hand.

"It is time to go where you belong, Amor Noster."

He squeezes his hand into a fist, there is a bright light underneath his fingers and already it has disappeared.

"It has found its place amongst the other stars. Perfect."

A small smile appears and he takes Aziraphale's hand into his. He brings it closer to his lips and places a gentle kiss on her ring finger.

"Something small to keep a memory of this," he whispers. He lifts his lipsand there is a small round birthmark on her ring finger.

"My..."Aziraphale chuckles softly when she admires her new birthmark.

"Is that how you got these marvellous things, Paulo Stella?" and she caresses his freckles with her fingertip, tickling his skin. The face he makes is so adorable to her that she can't help but giggle.

She places her hand on his jawline and brings him closer to her. Her lips meet his and it is honest, pure and full of love.

Her body becomes heavier and she gently falls back on the bed with him.

When she lifts her lips from his, she looks back at him, her light blonde hair touching him as it flows down. Her eyes are reflecting her every emotion and her aura is so strong that it can be seen.

For the first time, the demon is able to see the angel's aura.

"Te amo," is whispered to that demon under the gentle light of the fire.

"I can see your aura, Aziraphale," Crowley gasps when his eyes register the rippling of soft whites and blues in front of his eyes. It is like a silk fabric that swims around Aziraphale and glows with angelic warmth and love.

How many times is this angel going to take his breath away?

And then he gently touches her wings and nuzzles into her soft hair, giving her temple a kiss.

"Do you know how beautiful you are? I can't even describe your grace..."

His hands are now on her back, stroking gently the soft skin.

"Such beauty..." he leans closer to her ear and whispers with a tone of love-filled temptation, "I'm ready to make love to you for centuries."

"Well, we did use those 6000 years quite unwisely. What were we doing?" Aziraphale thinks out loud. "We were quite useless at the various tasks we were given. We didn't even really have any impact on the events of Armageddon. Except for the misplacement of the Antichrist and even that wasn't really your fault. Oh..." she gasps, suddenly realizing something. "Adam is your nephew and Gabriel's. And Michael's. Wow. I have never thought of it that way. It is a family affair."

Then she looks at Crowley and smiles.

"I have actually done a few check-ups on the boys. Angelic concern. And they're doing great. Warlock has found his passions in, " she furrows her brow, articulating the words the meaning of which she does not fully understand, "technological engineering. Computers and programs and...other knick-knacks. And Adam is growing well, still as imaginative as ever. Who knows...he has great potential to be a writer. I most definitely would add his books to my collection. A special edition by the real Antichrist...Ooh, I can already imagine that."

She fixes her hair behind her ear and Crowley can't help but stare at her with adoration even when she does something so simple.

"Anyway...you can tell your sister that her son is living happily and growing up well. They are both good boys. I still have that drawing that Warlock made when he was four, about his favourite," she rolls the word on her tongue, "Nanny and the garden, blooming in spring. I never thanked you for that little nudge. I probably would have been laid off when they would have seen that the gardener had managed to kill all their plants."

"Those little brats. Ahh... I miss them. And I do remember that drawing. He was very proud of it. Not that artistic in execution but the passion was there."

Aziraphale chuckles at Crowley's fond commentary. Then she puts her head on Crowley's chest and lays comfortably down on top of him, letting him stroke her. She listens to his heart beating and also caresses his skin. It is warm.

"I will make love to you. I will compensate for those 6000 years, but now...I want to rest a little. To be in the tickety-boo state later. Please...hold me. I love being in your embrace, " she snuggles into Crowley's chest. Her gaze is blissful when she observes the flames; their movements and tones.

Slowly her face falls deep into thought and she becomes serious. It is clear that something is bothering her.

Crowley chuckles and hugs her closer to himself, keeping her warm. He almost starts purring from the happiness and relaxation: "No need to rush, my love. You're not the only one who wants to rest for a little bit."

He nuzzles into her hair and closes his eyes, relaxing underneath her. He opens one of his eyes when he senses the subtle change in her mood: "Darling? What's wrong? Something is bothering you."

She doesn't say anything at first. Only keeps staring into the fire, while continuing to caress Crowley's arm.

Then she slides her hand down and carefully intertwines their fingers together and she brings their hands close to her lips, kissing his knuckles.

"Have you ever...have you ever wondered...what it would be like to live as...a human? And not just amongst them, but _being_ them, existing as a human." She lifts her head and looks at Crowley, wanting an answer from him. "Do you want to become human?"

He doesn't look at her at first, his eyes fixed on the fire.

"I have been asking this question from myself a lot, angel, " the demon finally sighs. His graceful hand is gently stroking her hair, while he thinks what his hundreds of hours of contemplating have left him with.

Crowley has wondered about it and each time his answer changes just a little, depending on what humanity has thrown at him; whether it be another quirky invention or bloody war instead.

Yet he has at least some kind of an answer for Aziraphale: "I don't think so.

The life of a human is short. So short... compared to our... eternity. It is like one second of our existence. I think...that would be too little for me if I would change now. If I would have been born as a human...I am not certain.

As a human, you have too many things to think about. For example... Kids. It is a part of your life as a human being. Having kids. To most humans at least. You need to take care of them but in the end...You are responsible for an entire other person. Your decisions shape them and mould them. They do quite a lot on their own too, but you cannot deny the effect that your participation has on their growth. Nature versus nurture, remember?

I was a nanny for Warlock. I cared for the boy. I really did, but seeing the world and the environment shape him... Understanding how much influence you can have over somebody impressionable... it does not console. I don't want to wield such power over somebody I care about. I don't want to do that. That's unfair. Especially if you have to send your children into the wide world on their own with what you have given them.

As to other aspects of being human...I think that there are always somethings that I will never understand about them and to be honest...

I don't think that I want to become one in order to be able to understand these mysteries. I' d rather speculate and draw my own conclusions.

And...even though being human is very different from being a demon or even an angel, in the end...one option does not seem to be inherently better. It is just different with different struggles and joys."

"Hmm...I see..." Aziraphale turns away and looks into the fire. She has her reply ready. "Humans are...everything really. One time they create the most magnificent of things with what their imagination has come up with and then..." she darkens, remembering things from the past, "become the most horrible of monsters, destroying everything. They are so full of conflicts and that very nature is fascinating to me because they can choose throughout their life. Their destination is not settled until the very end, and even then, there is hope.

The Purgatory.

For us, angels and demons, everything is certain, foretold. We are who we are and that's that. No arguments. No discussions. Just facts. We cannot change and grow in a human sense.

This is where our limits come in. We can't go back and forth. We have to choose and accept the consequences of our decisions for eternity.

And honestly... I don't even know if it is a mature or an immature approach.

I...I sometimes don't understand how...how is it all supposed to work. What Heaven and Hell should really be....because it is...it is almost as confusing as...Earth.

Humanity.

Mortality.

I too have thought about it and I...

I admire them. Mortality and freedom of mistake are a wonderful and desirable gifts..."

There is a pause in her speech and she stares intently at Crowley, her gaze penetrating through all his layers. And then she speaks again: "But I am not meant for that. I am not created for that purpose and I would rather be...me."

So simple is her answer and so lovely is her smile.

"The ability to choose and freedom of mistake... Hmmm. What a wonderful thing that always stays out of our reach. In some ways at least," although the first part was said with a slight note of bitterness, the last sentence held in it a certain amount of benevolence that he places on Aziraphale's temple as a kiss.

Aziraphale chuckles nervously and climbs off of Crowley, turning her back to him and sitting on his bedside, hugging herself for a moment and then her hands fall into her lap and she starts fidgeting.

"Funny...how you mentioned the...children, because..." a deep inhale, "I have thought about them."

Suddenly her voice becomes very quiet as if she was confessing her secret. She does not look at Crowley and her wings have positioned herself so that from the demon's point of view, her face remains hidden.

"I have played with the thought that...what if..." her wings come closer to her, almost like a shield, "we had children? Our very own. It is possible. Adam is an example of that. Lucifer is his biological parent. And..."

She stops. Aziraphale feels like she has said too much.

She stands up and walks in front of the fireplace. She stares down at the flames, tempted to put her foot in it as if it is merely water.

Melancholy is in her voice as she traces the mantelpiece with her hand: "Once I came upon a report. I was sorting them, it was my task. Quite a pile. And in that report was a child." Her hand stops moving. "A child of two angels. Classified information. And there was to be a trial. To discuss that delicate matter. And then the report was snatched from me. I don't know what became of those two angels, I had never met them, and I don't know what became of the child. I just..."

She kneels down and wraps her arms around herself with sorrow on her beautiful face.

"I prayed for them. I prayed that they all were to be alright. That they did not have to suffer."

A tear falls down her face and she wipes it away, eyes, however, still remaining moist.

"I would like to believe that they were able to stay together. Somehow. That Heaven wasn't so cruel and...and..." she hides her face in her hands, taking a few shaky breaths before removing them again. She swallows. There is a wet line on her cheek.

"But this made me think of the possibility...much later...thousands of years later...that if we wanted to...then we could...have...

Children.

And the thought about it has been nagging me and I don't even understand how I would feel about it. It's all so confusing to me.

And I wanted to ask you this because perhaps you could help me understand and this thought involves you too and...

I need someone to help me think. I want to know.

I want to understand."

Crowley is still, but he had listened to her every word. Every single one.

Suddenly the meaning of those words hit the demon and he sits up with a shocked face, trying to process everything Aziraphale just said. He can't imagine himself being a parent.

He is not human. He is not meant to be a parent for a child. Right? And everything he just told her...

He fidgets nervously with the blanket, trying to come up with something. He breathes in..."Aziraphale. I need to be honest with you. I haven't thought about... having a child. Never. This is something beyond...Oh..."

Suddenly he pauses and chuckles. He is lying to himself and her. He had thoughts about his own child while being Warlock's nanny. Despite what he had just told Aziraphale...having a child of his very own...has been an idea that has made him fuzzy inside.

"Oh, angel..." he rubs his face with his palms, trying to get a grip of himself. He stands up and moves next to Aziraphale, sitting behind her. Warm blanket wraps around her shoulders and the demon nuzzles his nose into her hair, hugging her from behind.

"This time both of us are going too fast," he sighs and presses another gentle kiss against her temple, "In the future... I..."

He feels how he is blushing like crazy. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he hisses: "In the future, angel, I want to... I'm ready to be a parent for... our very own child. If that's even possible. Between... an angel and a demon..."

Crowley then sits in front of her and takes her hands into his.

"Let's take small steps. If its anything like a mortals' experiences, then the parenthood will be tough. We need to be ready for the fact that a child needs a lot of time, dedication and attention. From both. It can get hard sometimes. Couples do not have enough time for themselves and... it can damage the relationship. We need to be sure that we are ready. That our relationship is in the right place for a change like that..."

He pauses, looking at her with a blank face and then he looks down, blinking rapidly. Suddenly everything comes together.

All this nonsense that he is currently saying, Aziraphale's confession and those blasted emotions that he can sense coming from both her and himself...

They are all really saying only one thing at this point.

There is a wet chuckle and the demon rubs his eyes that are becoming too blurry because of tears.

"We're stupid," he laughs, "You want to start a family... You want to start a family with me, angel. The feeling of wanting to start a family with someone... This is why you're confused. You have never felt that way before. You do not recognise the feeling of that desire in you. This is new to you. But this seems to be what you want. This seems to be your desire, my angel, and I am a demon, The Serpent of Eden. I am meant to pick up on people's desires and this is yours.

You want a family of your very own.

Oh! What people are usually doing in situations like these?!"

With a sharp turn, he looks at her with such a serious face that it appears almost comical: "I'm ready, angel. Let's start our own family. Humans... yes... " he places his hands on her cheeks. "Humans are saying stuff like marry me or something... Should I say that? Yes? Hmm..."

Crowley coughs and then the serpentine eyes are pouring into elektra blue, hands still on her cheeks.

"Marry me, angel! Was it correct?..."

Aziraphale could as well have been struck by lightning. Her mouth drops open and her eyes take on the size of the carriage wheels.

This...

Did he...

Did he just...

Propose to her?

And offered to have children?

Aziraphale's head is spinning as it all comes crashing down on her and she freezes.

She does not move close to half an hour. She does not breathe. Crowley does not breathe.

Then she blinks.

"B...but...but I don't want to marry you..."

She quickly grabs his hands before Crowley's whole world collapses.

"Nononono! Let me rephrase it!" she squeezes his hands before she sighs.

"I don't want to marry you in the Earthly sense. I think that the concept of a wedding and a marriage is lovely, but I don't believe it is right for us."

Aziraphale chortles at her next words: "By the power vested in me by God, I pronounce you...I don't need Her power. I don't need Her approval. I don't need anybody's approval. Only yours. And I don't want it to be human. I want it to be ours. Created by us for us."

She brings Crowley's hands in front of her and never before has she hold them so tenderly. Her heart is threatening to explode and her vulnerability is all for him to see.

I don't know if I want children. For some reason...I have a feeling like they don't belong in our world. Like they are not meant to be..." there is a hint of sadness and regret in her words. As if the desire runs deeper than she is able to discard. Then she sniffles and places her forehead against Crowley's, exposing her soul even further.

"But the knowledge of you...willing...wanting is incredibly important to me. It..." her voice almost breaks when her emotions are overwhelming her. "It means so much to me. You can't even fathom how much. And there is always the possibility that...One day...We could have our very own child...Oh, Crowley..."

And she laughs and cries at the same time, feeling his forehead against hers. Warm.

Then she remembers that she had not yet replied properly to the demon.

"And...and Crowley?"

She cradles his face between her trembling hands and makes him look at her. Nothing of this is allowed to escape him. Nothing.

"I won't marry you. But...

If you want my body and soul and heart...

If you ask me to love you forever and beyond...

If you want to symbolize and seal our bond with our own ceremony..."

There is a pause and then she whispers, nodding enthusiastically over and over again. She is so happy that she feels that she might fly up into the sky and her wings flap a couple of times behind her, glowing. She squishes Crowley's cheeks with love and her aura can be seen in its full glory.

"Then yes. My answer is yes," and with a burst of lyrical laughter, she touches her lips onto his, convincing him that she means every word.

Every single one.

Now and always.

"You know... I'm glad that you said no to marriage. I might have rushed it with my panicky state. I am not even quite sure why people do this nowadays when there are so many other options to show your dedication to your partner. You do not need The Almighty to seal it with eternity. People can make the most of it on their own. I personally think it gives the most sense of security. Takes off the responsibility from their shoulders if a third party is somehow involved. And now I am back with my rambling, talking about thins that I know nothing about. Why do I keep doing this?" Crowley groans when he realizes what trainwrecks his speeches tend to be today.

Aziraphale giggles, shrugging: "I don't know. I think it is again one of those things that make you so you. And I have always loved you for it."

Crowley smiles at Aziraphale's gentle encouragement and she leans closer to give her a slow and tender kiss on the lips.

"Let's just be together and we'll see what will happen further. Just wing it as some people would say," he whispers as he stands up and without an effort takes her into his arms. As soon as he lays down and wraps the blanket around them, he nuzzles against her chest that is so so soft and comforting. "Let's sleep. It's so warm and cosy here."

Her arms wrap around Crowley's neck when he picks her up and brings her back into bed.

When she is laid down, Aziraphale giggles when Crowley's fingers are tickling her skin as they wrap around her back and caress it.

When his face fits itself against her chest, one of her hands slithers deep into his hair and another on his back, gently touching his black wing.

"You are right. It is warm and cosy." The tenderest kiss is placed on top of his head. "Sleep, my dearest demon. I will join you a little later..."

And her voice...

It is so beautiful, so soft and soothing as she starts to sing to him.

She sings a song in a language that Crowley does not understand, but he knows the meaning. He feels the meaning of those words.

She smiles, never before having felt so blissful, so happy, so...

Loved.

The language she sings in is her own. Every angel was also gifted with their own tongue. It was meant for only them to understand

and Her.

And Aziraphale sings about herself

and Crowley

and love.

Sings their story to God and Crowley.

Crowley is already asleep when the last notes of the song fade into silence.

She strokes his head and very gently brings him closer into her embrace.

She slowly opens her eyes and looks up.

At Her.

Aziraphale mouths the words: "I am not sorry. I _love_ him. He makes me happy and I him. He is the one for me. My duty is to him and to myself."

The angel looks down at the sleeping demon in her arms and smiles with adoration.

"I fell..." she whispers; "I fell in love him and he with me..."

She looks up once more and Aziraphale's face is serene and honest. Her eyes are still elektra blue and for a second...

She can see Her.

"I have no regrets, Mother."

And then Aziraphale closes her eyes and slides down in Crowley's embrace so that she can touch her face to his. A shadow of a kiss on his lips and she too falls into a deep slumber.

The rhythm of their heartbeats becomes one.

And God smiles upon them.

She has a plan for them. All of them.

The Ineffable Plan and thus far it has played out exactly as it should.

* * *

  1. “Vacation? Are you thinking about Italy?” - in Italian, because once you start imagining your vacation in Italy there is no going back.
  2. “What is this?” — in Italian.
  3. Aziraphale is using words from William Shakespeare’s “Hamlet”. In the end the angel appreciated the famous tragedy. Crowley had used a miracle to spark it into the flames of success after all.
  4. “Our Love” in Latin. A very fitting name for a star.



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here it is.
> 
> The end of the first book.
> 
> I am taking a slight hiatus upload wise. Working on some writing and editing chapters for the second book, which is coming, because I cannot keep this story only to myself.
> 
> What I can say about the second book is that it is going to be grander and even more epic. Emotions shall be amplified.
> 
> It is after all part of The Ineffable Plan.😉
> 
> Please check out the art of my amazing co-author [SVDÝIX](https://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=https%3A%2F%2Finstagram.com%2Fsvdyix%3Figshid%3Dkep4g0k2fvqv%26fbclid%3DIwAR3shwrW8uxWe2hBhZXjgVzvk6m13UCZ13EjBaIdf-e7ko6aIlByvVC1XIE&h=AT09ems6xJbDYDPt6jisv7EaTA1B6XgVkbSUcfhpPsgPzHHzWUTA2zlcMRn58WDLuAuJlXYJolAVgMNE1dcO5ZXzt7XcCxHxbJ__GDiCXUgPetGe06dxvSLF4x1wD807rU5h37tsWENbBGASXQFWhg)
> 
> Thank you again for reading and I hope you enjoyed! I would be very interested in reading some feedback😊 Even few words are enough.


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